A House Divided - Marco's Mission
by Piscean6724
Summary: This is the 4th installment in the "House Divided" series. Marco's anxiety level seems to be increasing since he began staying with his mother a few weeks ago. What has created a rift within the Lopez family and how will it divide Station 51? This story picks up where "Desoto's Dilemma" ends.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the fourth installment in the "House Divided" series. A small segment of "DeSoto's Dilemma" is repeated in order to set the time line for this story within the series.

Marco's Mission

Chapter 1

Marco sat on the edge of his bed, the same one he had slept in as a teenager. Over the last few weeks, he had basically moved in with his mother. A devoted and loyal son, he felt the need to help his mother through this time of year – every year for the last four years. The sound of his precious nephew padding down the hallway pulled a bittersweet smile from his round sad face. He waited for the tiny voice he knew would soon call out to him.

"Meeko?" A soft voice floated through the closed door, as small hands jiggled the door knob.

"It's okay, Antonio. You can come in now," Marco said, permitting the entrance of the curious four year old. He waited for the dark-haired child to launch himself into his uncle's arms for their morning ritual.

Antonio bolted onto the bed and began climbing around on top of Marco. The two wrestled around for a few minutes with Marco pretending to be pinned to the mattress by the much smaller replica of himself. The child giggled in a carefree manner as he continued to pounce on his uncle with the stealth of a hunting mountain lion stalking his prey. Marco pretended not to notice as he bent down to slip on his shoes. Then, as soon as the tiny mass of energy bounded onto Marco's head, the man grabbed onto the boy as he quickly stood up, spun around twice, then gently tossed the laughing little boy onto the bed. With all of his energy spent, Antonio merely lay in one spot, hugging his stomach as he continued to laugh.

"Had enough, Ant?"

"No-no, I'm Ba'man," the child sang out, rolling onto all fours then slowly standing. He made a swinging motion with one arm, as if tossing his imaginary cape behind him, then jumped off the bed and into the waiting arms of his uncle.

"Oh, you're Batman, huh? Then who am I, Robin?" Marco teased.

"No-no, you da Jockey!"

"The Joker," Marco corrected, trying to hide his grin. He hugged the little boy closer to his chest as he picked up his bag with his free hand, and stepped into the hallway. He allowed the child to slide down his side and onto the floor, freeing up Marco's hand to close his bedroom door. "Okay, Ant, time to go downstairs for breakfast."

Antonio rushed to the stairway where he waited for his favorite uncle to catch up. Together, the two of them walked down the stairs, hand in hand, ready for breakfast.

Mrs. Lopez stirred the scrambled eggs into the onions and peppers then removed the pan from the hot burner. Taking a few heated tortillas, she spooned a small amount of the egg mixture into each one, rolling them up and topping them off with home-made salsa. Just as she set the plates on the table, she heard the sound of Marco and Antonio entering the warm kitchen.

"Good morning, Mama," Marco announced, dropping his bag beside the back door. He noticed that she wiped her face before she turned around to greet them. Thankfully, the youngster climbing up to the table didn't notice the emotional display. "Anymore phone calls?"

"No," Mrs. Lopez sniffed. "But I keep hoping."

"Are you hungry, Ant?" Marco asked, changing the subject.

"Uh-huh," the child grinned, arranging himself in his chair and reaching for his orange juice.

"And what's the Spanish word for that?" Mrs. Lopez asked.

Antonio grinned broadly at his doting grandmother. "Si," he nearly shouted with pride.

Mrs. Lopez never missed a chance to share her culture and her faith with her children. Now, she was passing it down to her grandchildren, too, especially this one. "Marco, will you say grace before we eat?"

"Si, Mama," he said, winking at his nephew as they reached out to hold hands.

The meal was eaten in relative silence. After Marco had finished his food, he pushed the plate aside, and reached for his orange juice. "You gonna be okay without me tonight?"

Mrs. Lopez appreciated the gesture. Truthfully, it didn't matter if she was alright or not. He had no choice but to go to work. Her son was a dedicated firefighter and her heart swelled with pride every time she saw him in his uniform. "We'll be fine, Marco. He isn't the first little boy I've raised," she said with a forlorn look on her face. "I seem to do better with boys than with girls," she added, standing and collecting their finished plates while Antonio finished eating his burrito.

Marco stood up, waiting for her to set the plates into the sink then pulling her into a hug. "You are a remarkable woman, wife, mother and grandmother. I don't know how you do it. But one thing I do know, is that this isn't your fault at all."

"My head knows that, but my heart still aches over it. I keep wondering what I could have done differently," she whispered, not wanting her grandson to hear her.

"Nothing, Mama. There was nothing you could have done differently. She made some bad decisions a long time ago, and now, it's all up to her," he reassured.

"She made a wrong decision long ago, but the decisions she's making now are not hers, Marco. They are not hers. Remember that, please." The weeping woman nodded her head in the direction of the table, turning her back to the little boy as he drank the remainder of his orange juice. "He'll be starting school in a couple of years. What will happen then, Marco? What will we do then?"

"We're going to do everything we can between now and then. Don't borrow trouble from tomorrow. Isn't that what you used to tell me?" He asked her, gently patting her shoulder.

"Si," she remarked, fingering the golden crucifix around her neck, the symbol of her faith. "If I get another phone call, I'll let you know. Be safe, my son," she said, turning around and planting a kiss on his tanned cheek.

"Call if you need me," he told her as he walked toward his seated nephew. He ruffled the child's straight dark hair. "Be a good boy for Grandma."

"Okay," the little boy muttered, using his pajama sleeve to wipe the orange juice mustache from his grinning face.

Twenty-five minutes later, Marco parked his car in the parking lot behind Station 51. Based on the cars already parked there, he was going to be assigned latrine duty. He didn't mind, though. Doing his chores alone meant he didn't have to explain himself to anyone who might catch him staring at nothing for long periods of time. He stepped out of his car, locked it then headed for the locker room. He had taken care of dressing in his uniform before leaving for work, so he tossed his bag into his locker and headed in search of a hot cup of coffee. He had lost a great deal of sleep on his many late night outtings in recent weeks, so loading up on caffeine was a necessity before the first run.

He pushed through the kitchen door just as Chet was in the middle of some long drawn out tale. He tried not to listen, noting how intently Johnny was paying attention, but he couldn't help but overhear a small segment that sent him into an uncharacteristic primal rage.

"You're gonna catch somethin' ajax won't remove," Johnny spouted out.

"Nah, she's young and innocent," Chet commented, realizing that Johnny still hadn't figured it out. Chet had already seen the look on Roy's face and knew that he, as the father of a young girl, had figured out about whom Chet was referring.

Marco cut his eyes at his partner, setting his hot coffee down on the table. He felt his stomach lurch at Chet's comment. "What did you say?"

Chet smiled. "Just that young wet naked babes find me attractive."

"That isn't funny, Chet." Marco narrowed his tired eyes at the Irishman, too exhausted to fully comprehend the jest of Chet's story.

"Yea, her mother didn't think it was too funny, either. In fact, she was appalled by her daughter's behavior." Chet laughed, knowing that with that last comment, the entire crew would understand his joke. He was wrong.

Marco somehow mustered up the energy to bolt from his spot at the table, grabbing his partner by the shirt collar, and slamming him against the brown refrigerator door.

"What the hell, Marco? It's a joke! It was Corrie! She'd just gotten a bath!" The younger man yelled out, surprised by his partner's reaction.

Mike and Roy suddenly appeared on either side of Marco pulling his hands away from Chet, and dragging him backwards. Johnny set down his coffee cup, rushing to Chet's defense.

"You a'right?" Johnny asked, pointing a finger at Chet's chest.

Hank pushed through the kitchen door, pinning his men in place with his stern hazel eyes. He saw Marco fuming, Mike and Roy holding him away from Chet. His younger lineman was straightening his shirt, as Johnny stood in front of him, effectively blocking Marco's access to Chet.

"Is there a problem in here?" The fire captain questioned his men.

Chet peered around Johnny, waiting for Marco to say something. When no one spoke, he decided to answer their captain's question. "No… No, sir. Everything's just FINE," he spat out, emphasizing his last word.

Hank looked each man in the eye for confirmation. The only one who wouldn't make eye contact was his older lineman. "Roll call in ten minutes. Kelly, tuck your shirttail back in. Lopez, my office… NOW!"

Chet shoved his shirttail back into the front of his navy blue pants, feeling confused and stunned. His partner had just pounced on him for reasons unknown to not only Chet, but the other members of the A-shift.

"Man… Who pissed in his oatmeal this morning?" Chet questioned, turning his collar back down at the back of his neck, and stepping away from the refrigerator.

Mike's blue eyes continued to stare at the door through which Captain Stanley and Marco had just exited the kitchen, leaving behind them four dumbfounded men. "I don't know, but that isn't like him."

"No, it isn't," Roy chimed in. "Something's up."

"Whatever it is, it's a doozy. Nothin' rattles Marco. I mean, the guy nearly got electrocuted at that gas station, and he wouldn't even let us take him inside Rampart in a wheelchair. He insisted on walkin' in." Johnny's chin was left hanging lower than usual, leaving his mouth agape. That usually meant he was perplexed, and Marco's uncharacteristic behavior certainly left him feeling that way this morning.

"Yea well,… We better get ready for roll call. I sure don't want to make Cap any angrier than he already is," Mike added, pouring his lukewarm coffee into the sink. He then set about cleaning up the percolator, preparing it for the next pot of coffee that he was certain was going to be needed soon. This was shaping up to be a very difficult shift.

E!

Marco trudged behind his captain, his mind swirling with emotions. He was exhausted and had allowed his personal issues to affect his job performance. If his captain chose to suspend him, then he certainly couldn't argue the point. He just hoped that a suspension was all he was going to get. His actions this morning deserved whatever punishment he got. He had completely lost his temper in front of his coworkers, and his partner had been the recipient of the brunt of his anger. How was he going to explain his actions to his shift mates?

He dragged his leaded feet through the doorway of the captain's office, sitting in the hot seat beside the desk, a seat his partner and friend occupied more often than any other member of their crew. His embarrassment colored his tanned complexion as he leaned his forearms on his knees, not wanting to look directly into the disappointed face of his superior.

Hank took his seat at the desk, grateful that his older lineman had taken a seat rather than assuming a defiant stance. At least his appearance was that of a contrite sorrowful man. Hank swallowed hard, inhaling and exhaling a cleansing breath before he began, hoping that the klaxons would allow them a reprieve for a little while longer.

"Marco?" Hank watched the lineman hang his head even farther, facing the floor. Whatever was happening to him was extremely difficult for the younger man.

"I'm s-sorry, Cap. I'm really sorry." Marco could feel the heat of his shame rising up around his collar, causing small rivulets of perspiration to run down behind his ears and along his temples.

"Well, I'm not the only one you need to apologize to."

Marco rubbed his palms together nervously. "I know. I'll take care of it before I leave." He raised his face up enough to look at his captain through his upper eyelashes. "Am I fired, or just suspended?"

Hank sighed, rubbing his hand across his upper lip. He hadn't expected the question he'd just been asked. "Well, what do you think I ought to do?"

Marco lowered his eyes again. "Fighting is a dischargeable offense, sir. I know that."

Hank leaned forward, resting his forearm along the edge of the desk. He waited a moment until his crewmember looked up at him. "Yes, yes it is. Chet knows that, too. I can only assume that's the reason why he didn't fight back." Hank knew he was presuming a lot since he had not been in the room when the altercation had actually occurred, but he also knew that his instincts were right, based on how Marco was reacting.

"Yes sir; Chet's a good man."

Hank leaned back in his chair once again. "Yes, he is, and so are you, Marco. So… What's going on?"

Marco swallowed hard then leaned back in his seat. His stomach continued to flip flop. Never had he ever sat in this seat before and never did he think he would ever be here. It also had not escaped him that his superior had not answered his question. In his mind, that could only mean one thing. He was most likely going to be fired. "I'm, ah… I'm having some issues at home with my family."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Pal. Recently been through a rough patch myself."

Marco stared at the floor. "Yes sir, but not like this," he mumbled, his voice fading to nearly a whisper. "You were able to bounce back." Marco wanted to say more, to explain that his own issue seemed to be never ending whereas his captain's problem had reached a peak, allowing him to begin the healing process. However, being a very private man, Marco remained silent.

Hank's heart ached at the sound of pain in his older lineman's voice. "I'm bouncing back, Marco. I'm not back 100% yet, but I'm getting there with the help of my family, my… Ahem, my therapist, and my friends. I count you and the rest of the men among those who are helping me get back. If I remember correctly, you sat on me and helped pull me back from a pretty bad nightmare." Hank still struggled with the idea of being in therapy, but now seemed like an appropriate time to remind his lineman.

Marco merely nodded quietly.

"You're among friends here, and I'm one of them. Is there anything… Anything at all that I can help you with?" Hank looked understandingly at the nervous man.

Marco hesitated just long enough to give Hank a sliver of hope that his upset crewmember was about to trust him with some vital information.

"No sir," Marco announced, shaking his head. "I wish you could, but you can't. No one can." He looked back up, his dark eyes searching his captain's face for the answer to his original question.

Hank pressed his lips together firmly. "I see. What about the other fellows? Is there one of them you could talk to?"

Again, Marco shook his head. There was no way he could bring the guys into his familial hell. He looked back up at his captain. "I'll go clean out my locker, Cap."

"Not yet, Pal."

"Sir?"

"I said not yet. Let's go have roll call before we get a run. We'll continue this later." Hank stood up, noticing the confused expression on his lineman's face.

"I don't understand. Aren't you going to call in a replacement for me?"

"Like I said, not yet. I am going to talk to Chet, but I doubt he'll want me to do anything. If I recall, he was given a second chance not so long ago." Hank smiled, patting Marco on the back as the younger man stood up. Through his captain's eyes, he could see a sense of relief and also concern on Marco's tanned face. Hank reached for the door, ushering the lineman through ahead of him. The two of them made their way to the place where the other four men now stood, waiting for roll call to begin.

Chet looked up, his eyes locking briefly with those of his partner, then quickly diverting to the gray concrete floor. He knew that something was terribly wrong with Marco, but he was also still miffed about being shoved into the refrigerator in front of the other men. He rocked back on his heels, cutting a glance at Mike who stood directly to his left.

Mike's blue eyes scanned first Marco and then Captain Stanley. He noted that both men looked frustrated, leaving him with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He nodded his head at Marco, then straightened his shoulders and stared at the closed bay door. It wasn't his place to mention the incident. If anything was to be discussed then Captain Stanley and Marco would have to be the ones to do it.

Marco reluctantly took his place between Roy and Chet. He cleared his throat then stiffened his body, locking his eyes on the bay door, looking just over his captain's shoulder.

Hank waited for the last man to complete the formation before beginning. "Okay," he began looking down at his clipboard. "I've got a couple of memos to go over with you here." He scanned the pages, reading the relevant information to his crew, glancing up occasionally to ensure that they were still paying attention to him, without any flare-ups from the earlier commotion in the kitchen. "Alright, Mike you've got the kitchen and day room; Roy has the dorm. Chet and John, you fellas are hanging hoses. Marco, latrines and the apparatus bay. Let's have a safe shift. Dismissed."

Marco quickly spoke up before the others had a chance to break formation. "Uh, Cap?"

"Yes, Marco."

"I'd, ah, I'd like to say something, if I may… Please?"

Hank looked his older lineman in the eye, searching for any clue about what he might say. He was unable to read Marco's facial expressions and so, reluctantly, agreed for him to speak. "Alright... Go ahead."

"Ahem, I'd like to, ah, to apologize to you, Cap, for what happened earlier. I put you in a bad situation, and I'm sorry for that." Marco allowed his shoulders to sag, the weight of his words pressing him into the hard floor. "Mike, John and Roy… I'm sorry for my outburst. I appreciate what you did in there a few minutes ago," he explained, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen. "And Chet, I owe you the biggest apology of all. I don't know what came over me. I know you were just joking around, but it… It struck a raw nerve or something. I hope you can forgive me. It won't happen again, I promise."

Chet felt uncomfortable knowing that everyone was looking at him. He shoved his hands into his pockets hoping to calm himself before he spoke. He swallowed hard, opening his mouth just as his captain interrupted him.

"Thank you, Marco. Alright, men. Let's get to it. Uh, Chet, I need to see you in my office, please." Hank turned on his heels and walked with purpose straight to the captains' office.

"Yes, sir." Chet shuffled his feet along the same path his superior had taken, feeling a sense of relief that he hadn't had to accept Marco's apology at the moment. He wasn't sure he was ready for that step, yet.

Johnny watched as his chore partner followed Captain Stanley. Having no desire to attempt to hang the hoses alone, he followed the somber looking Marco into the latrine. "Hey, ah… Want me to give you a hand until Chet gets done?" Johnny asked, walking through the latrine door behind Marco.

"Thanks, John, but I better do as much as I can by myself," he said pulling out the toilet brush and heading for the stall. "I don't know how long I'm going to be allowed to stay. If I get sent home, then one of you fellas will have to finish what I don't get done," he began, pouring the toilet bowl cleaner into the basin and beginning to scrub around the bowl. "I've done enough damage around here this morning," he mumbled.

"Yea… About that," Johnny continued, wanting to reach out to his hurting friend. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Marco smirked as he flushed the toilet, watching the blue frothy water swirling around the bowl and down to the city sewer. "If you want to check my BP and pulse, there's really no need. BP's high and pulse is rapid. Oh," he raised himself back up, looking at his friend. "Remember that big guy down in that tank that we all had to jump on so Roy could give him some shot to calm him down?"

Johnny grinned broadly. "Yea, he single-handedly kicked all our asses at the same time. Remember how he had Chet turned upside down and was shakin' him?"

Marco remembered the incident vividly. With a serious expression on his face, he spoke up. "Well, I'll take one of those, if you have another one in the drug box. It might settle me down so I don't do something else stupid."

Johnny gulped, uncertain of what his friend meant by his statement. "I, uh, no… I mean, yea, but I can't give it to ya. Gotta have a doctor's order, ya know?" Johnny snickered nervously. He hoped Marco had just been joking around.

"I know, John. I was just kidding." Marco stopped, in front of the mirror. He looked at Johnny's reflection, their eyes locking briefly. "I really am sorry, John."

Johnny walked up behind the older man, clapping him on the shoulder. "I know, man. It's a'right. Let's just shake it off and move on."

Marco gave a quick nod of his head along with an affirmative sigh, then turned his attention to cleaning the row of sinks. Johnny, sensing Marco wanted to be alone, quietly exited the latrine and headed towards the hose tower to wait for Chet.

Inside Hank's office, Chet sat in the seat beside Hank's desk. He crossed his arms over his chest, a sense of frustration growing in his soul. He had not been in this seat for a while, and truthfully, he didn't think he deserved to be here now. He felt as if he were about to be blamed for an incident that he had no part in. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, his heartbeat thudding in his throat as he waited for his captain to begin the lecture Chet knew was coming.

"Chet, I've spoken to Marco about the incident in the kitchen. He assures me he is completely at fault, so take it easy. You aren't in any trouble."

Chet finally looked up. "I'm not?"

"Of course not. The reason I asked to speak to you is because I need to know how you're feeling right now. Have you calmed down any, or are you still pissed off?" Hank hoped that his frank choice of words would put his young crewmember at ease.

"Pissed off! How'd you feel if somebody shoved you around for no reason, huh?"

Hank smiled softly. He knew Chester B. Kelly better than Chet knew himself. His tactic had worked, Chet was opening up. "Well, I'd be mad as hell to be honest with you. I don't know if I'd be able to work with him on this shift. And I'd probably be mad at my captain if he didn't send Marco home on suspension, or even permanently." He leaned back rubbing his chin, waiting for his words to sink in with his lineman.

Chet leaned his elbows onto his knees, exhaling loudly. He thought back to the day his entire shift, except Captain Stanley, had shown up at his apartment. Marco was right there, helping take care of him during the worst hours of his life. Now, something was wrong with Marco, and there was no way that Chet could turn his back on his best friend. It was time for him to return the favor, and do whatever he could to help Marco get past whatever was bothering him. He rubbed his hands together, knowing that Hank was waiting for a response from him. Right now, he had the power to darken Marco's stellar career. He ran both hands through his thick curly hair, resting his head in his hands. He remembered how Marco, and the rest of the guys, had stood up for him when their captain had wanted to send him home for not reporting his foot injury. Now, there was just no way he could turn his back on Marco – not after Marco had spoken up on his behalf. Finally, he sat back up, shifting his blue eyes in the direction of Hank's desk.

"I know you're wanting to know if I can work with Marco on this shift. The answer is yes. I can let it go, Cap. I really can. I don't know what's goin' on with him, but sending him home ain't gonna help." He pointed a finger at his own chest. "I was in a bad spot myself not so long ago, and Marco… Hell, everybody around here, helped bring me outta my funk. That helped me so much, Cap. Well, I'm sure you know what I mean. Anyway, I'm thinkin' maybe Marco needs that now," he said, jerking his thumb over his right shoulder in the direction of the latrine. "I think maybe I oughtta try talkin' to him. Just, please don't send him home, okay?"

Hank leaned back in his chair, grimacing at the squeaking noise the movement made. His plan had worked. "Alright, I'll do as you wish… for now," he cautioned, raising his finger in the air. "But, if I see anything that makes me think the integrity of this unit has been compromised, I'll take the necessary steps to keep the citizens of our jurisdiction and you men safe."

"Uh, if you mean that if you see we can't work together, or if you think Marco is unfit for duty then you'll send him home, I dig it."

Hank scoffed at the younger man. "That's exactly what I mean, Chet. Now, you go on and help John with those hoses before the klaxons send us scrambling," he ordered, waving his hand towards the door.

Chet left the office in a rush. He wasn't in a particular hurry to hang hoses, especially with Gage, but he was in a hurry to get out of the captains' office. Just as he reached the back bay door, the tones sounded. He expertly executed an about-face, heading for his jump seat on the engine.

Hank scurried to the radio to acknowledge the call and write down the address. Marco pushed through the latrine door. As soon as he reached his place behind Mike, he quickly donned his turnout coat and helmet. He grabbed the bar, swinging himself onto the engine, glancing briefly at his partner. What he saw made his heart skip a beat, causing him to swallow hard to fight his emotions. There was Chet, already in position with his gear on, looking down at the floorboard. He couldn't help wondering what the younger man might have told their captain. With a frustrated sigh, Marco took his seat, wondering if perhaps this run might be the last of his career.


	2. Chapter 2

Marco's Mission

Chapter 2

The big red engine lumbered down the pothole-covered street in one of the poorer areas of 51's district. The four men inside were jostled from side to side, causing the two in the jump seats to hold on for support to prevent them from being thrown to the floorboard, or possibly into the street. It wasn't that Mike was a bad driver; he was one of the best in the county, but these streets were as neglected as most of the buildings in this section of the city, leaving him with no clear pathway to the plume of smoke rising in front of them.

As soon as Roy pulled the squad to a stop outside the apartment complex, he and John exited, immediately grabbing their SCBA. In tandem, they pulled the black harnesses over their shoulders, securing the yellow tanks to their backs.

Behind the squad, Mike eased to a slow crawl, dropping Chet off to tap the hydrant. The engineer pulled forward, releasing the hose in a strategic manner perfected through countless previous runs. As soon as he stopped the engine in place, the men disembarked and began the task of battling the blaze.

Hank quickly loped over to the incident commander, then returned to his waiting crew. "I want an inch and a half through that far door, Lopez," he pointed to his right, knowing his senior lineman would follow his directive without batting an eye. Marco's earlier outburst was all but forgotten in the heat of the moment. The lanky captain then hurriedly made his way to the place where law enforcement officers were creating a perimeter to prevent civilians from interfering with the fire department operations.

Hank spun around quickly, heading straight to the squad. "John, Roy, IC thinks we've got an elderly female in 2-D."

"We'll get her," Johnny responded, pulling on his air mask and slapping his pocket to make sure he had his HT.

"Grab and go, Pal. This old building hasn't got a lot of fight left in her," Hank said, with a sense of foreboding.

Mike completed his preparations at the control panel then gave Chet the signal to tap the hydrant. Chet followed his engineer's command, watching to be sure the supply line was engorged before joining his partner on the hose. No matter what happened between them earlier, they had a job to do and nothing was going to stand in their way of defeating a roaring dragon.

Marco held onto the hose, slowly inching forward. He felt the familiar hand of his partner on his shoulder, a sense of support and security in one simple gesture. Chet was there backing him up, just like always. He pushed their earlier strife into the farthest corner of his mind, leaving it there for a later conversation, then moved ahead with the battle at hand. Muffled voices behind them grew closer just as a couple of men in turnout gear rushed past them. The fact that Gage and DeSoto were not manning lines meant there was a primary search underway within the burning structure. Without the need for additional directives, Marco headed for the stairs in order to offer their paramedics whatever water support he and Chet could as they searched for victims.

Outside, Mike's eagle eyes scanned the scene while keeping a close watch on the gauges. Not only did they have a potential civilian victim still inside, but their linemen and paramedics were in harm's way, and it was up to him to be a second set of eyes and ears for their captain. The two of them, Hank and Mike, worked well together. Mike never questioned the older man's authority, and Hank never questioned his engineer's knowledge and skill. They could read each other's thoughts just as well as the paramedics and linemen could read the minds of their own partners. In the distance, he saw a lone figure, standing apart from the crowd. He was wearing a light colored sweatshirt with the collar pulled up over his nose even though the wind was blowing the smoke away from him. His upper face was hidden from view by the brim of his baseball cap pulled a little lower than seemed necessary. Mike made a mental note, then returned his attention to the task at hand.

Inside the structure, the paramedics made quick work of searching apartment 2-D. Finding the woman in question, Roy assisted Johnny in pulling her into a fireman's carry and heading for the exit. Roy hurriedly marked the apartment door with a chalk 'X' then followed his partner towards the stairs. The other second floor apartment doors had been left open, indicating the residents had escaped. The older paramedic stuck his head in quickly, scanning the small rooms.

"Anybody in here?" He paused to listen, then moved to the next open door. "Hello? Fire Department, anybody in here?" Finding nothing, he once again used his chalk to mark the doors. As soon as he reached the stairwell, a soft choking cough somehow managed to be heard above the roaring noise of the all-consuming fire. Roy took a step back towards apartment A. "I'll check it out," Roy yelled to his partner, unaware that Johnny had neither heard Roy's words nor the coughing sounds that led his partner in a different direction.

Johnny descended the stairs as quickly, and yet as carefully, as he could. The added weight of an unconscious victim along with the wet stairs and blinding smoke and steam made a normally mundane task all the more dangerous. Finally, as he made it to the first floor, he saw that his linemen had forced the flames back enough to allow a direct path of egress from the structure without flames licking at the thin house coat worn by his victim. As soon as he was out of the building, he felt his burden being lifted from his shoulders and the voice of his captain questioning him.

"Let them take her, John. Where's Roy?"

Johnny turned around just as the paramedics from 69's carried his victim to safety. That's when he realized that Roy had not made it out of the building. "I dunno. He was right behind me," he responded frantically.

"Go look for him, but make it quick. I don't think we can save this one," Hank explained, sensing that their only course of action was to try to contain the fire to the current structure involved.

Back inside the tiny apartment, Roy searched, wondering if perhaps he had been mistaken about the coughing sound he thought he had heard. Then, just as he exited the bathroom, he saw a slight movement from the kitchen area. Pushing past an overturned chair, he looked behind the table and saw a disheveled female victim lying curled up in the corner. Quickly, he scooped her up in his arms and headed for the door.

Johnny rushed passed Marco and Chet one more time in search of his partner. Was Roy injured? Why had he not followed Johnny out with their victim? A thousand possible explanations rushed through Johnny's mind, and he had to force them to remain silent while he searched for his missing partner. Never would he leave a brother behind in such an inferno, certainly not his best friend.

"ROY!" He called out, unsure if his voice could be heard above the roaring sounds of the fire and the hissing sprays of water. Just as he reached the second floor, he saw Roy hustling towards him with another victim in his arms. "C'mon, we gotta get outta here!" He stepped aside allowing Roy to pass by him. The victim needed clean air as quickly as possible. "Anybody else?" Johnny questioned.

"No," Roy responded, taking the first step of the slippery stairwell.

At the base of the stairs, Marco saw the two paramedics descending the staircase. He and Chet had already switched places, so he used his feet to kick the hose out of the way, ensuring that his crew mates had as safe an exit as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was delay a rescue and even further injure a victim by causing the rescuer to stumble.

Once outside, Johnny noticed that the other set of paramedics were treating the victim he had removed earlier. She seemed to be regaining consciousness and his heart felt a bit relieved. Now, he turned his attention to the younger victim Roy was carrying towards their squad.

Mike glanced up, saw his paramedics rushing out of the building with another victim, and with one last glance at his gauges, rushed to their aid. He quickly pulled open the compartments of the squad, removing the biophone, portable oxygen tank, and a disposable blanket. He then returned to his controls, seeing that their captain was jogging over to assist with the care of the victim.

Roy gently laid the young woman down on the yellow blanket, then began shrugging off his SCBA. Johnny, too, extricated himself from his air tank, then screwed the antenna into the biophone.

"Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?"

Back inside the burning structure, Marco tapped Chet's shoulder then took over the point position with the hose. A loud groaning noise caught his attention and both men looked up simultaneously.

"Ceiling's gonna go," Chet exclaimed, just as the order to retreat reached their ears.

Marco shut off the flow and both men hurried out of the structure, followed by a blast of smoke, dust and debris. They headed for their captain, as Mike looked up from his gauges. He had noticed the sudden change in water pressure and realized that it had occurred before the order to evacuate the building. Now, he hoped that his linemen had intentionally shut down the flow. He didn't want to think of the other reasons why the water pressure might make a rapid change. When he saw that both linemen were out of the structure, he breathed a sigh of relief and headed over to the place where Hank was talking to them.

"Ceiling collapsed," Chet said, breathlessly.

"Alright, glad you fellas made it out. Other units are protecting the exposures. We're in a defensive mode." Hank once again scanned the scene with his hazel eyes.

"Damn…" Chet shook his head, wiping a gloved hand across his brow, pushing his helmet to one side. He quickly readjusted it. "I hate surround and drown."

"We all do, Kelly. Nothing to save now, though," Hank explained. Somehow, the order felt like defeat even though the experienced fire captain knew it wasn't. Like all firemen, he preferred to walk away from a scene leaving something behind that was salvageable for those who lived there. That would not be the case this time. As his men trudged back to finish their jobs, he returned to his paramedics.

"What've you got?" Hank asked the busy men while eyeing the medical debris strewn around them from the IV packaging. He saw Roy taping the ordered IV in place. Johnny was busy taking another set of vitals.

"Pulse is still rapid and thready, respiration continues to be 20 and shallow, pupils sluggish…"

Hank listened to Johnny's description of their victim's updated vitals being relayed to Rampart. He couldn't help but notice the extra attention Roy seemed to be paying to the woman's abdominal area.

"Johnny, belly seems stiff and… Um," he knitted his eyebrows together as he palpated what felt like a second-trimester pregnancy. "Possible pregnancy, movement along the lower ribs on the left side. She's going sour on us," Roy noted with obvious concern in his voice.

"Rampart, victim's abdomen is rigid, probable internal bleeding and possible fractured ribs on the left side. Also, possible pregnancy."

"51, monitor her vitals, keep her well ventilated and transport as soon as possible." The gruff sounding voice of Dr. Kelly Brackett was unmistakable.

"10-4, Rampart," Johnny responded just as the Mayfair crew rolled up the gurney.

"I'll ride in with her," Roy announced, buckling the belts along her lower body.

"A'right, I'll get your gear." Johnny closed up the biophone. "Cap, will you get the drug box?"

Hank picked up the black box and loaded it into the ambulance. As soon as Johnny gave the customary two slaps and the ambulance pulled away, Hank turned to his younger medic. "Broken ribs and internal injuries? What happened to her?"

"Don't know, Cap. Roy was heading out with her when I first saw them." Johnny turned toward the squad, Roy's turnouts hanging over his left arm. He turned back around for a moment, pushing up the brim of his helmet. "Hey, Cap?"

"Yea?" Hank asked, turning halfway around in the direction of his medic.

"You need me for overhaul?"

"No," the captain waved off the younger man. "Go ahead and pick up Roy then make the squad available. We've got enough man power here to finish this up."

Johnny replaced the equipment in the squad's compartments then took a seat on the tan bench seat behind the steering wheel. With the window rolled down and his elbow resting on the ledge, he slowly maneuvered the squad through the thinning crowd in the direction of Rampart.

Inside the ambulance, Roy's patient was exhibiting signs of agitation as she slowly began to regain consciousness. Her breathing was becoming progressively more labored, her brow sweaty, and pain caused her facial muscles to twitch and contort. Roy tried to comfort her, knowing that she was likely able to hear his voice even if she wasn't yet able to open her eyes.

"Sshhh, you're gonna be alright. Just relax for me. We're on our way to the hospital and they'll take good care of you," he crooned in his softest voice. He watched as her eyes fluttered partially open, while she searched for the source of the voice speaking to her. He smiled at her when her eyes finally seemed to focus on him. "Hi, my name's Roy DeSoto and I'm a firefighter/paramedic. Just relax, alright? I need for you to take it easy and stay still."

"Ba-uh, ahhh," she groaned, squeezing her eyes closed again as she tried to wrap her arms around her abdomen, the fog of pain preventing her from forming the words she wanted to relay to her rescuer.

"I know. I know it hurts." He reached for her hands pulling them back down to her sides. "Just try to relax and breathe for me," he requested, adjusting the oxygen mask she had inadvertently shifted when she rolled her head from side to side.

The bouncing inside the ambulance indicated that they were making their approach to the emergency room entrance. Roy prepared his charge to be moved as the ambulance backed to a stop at the glass doors. Moments later, he assisted in the careful transfer of the woman from the ambulance stretcher to the exam table inside treatment room three. Again, she cried out in pain even though the medical staff were very careful during the transfer. Her arms immediately wrapped around her abdomen.

"She's been guarding her abdomen since we started the trip in, Doc," Roy said to the dark-haired physician who was barking orders to the nurses around him.

Dixie began removing the woman's clothing, grimacing at the bruises that had formed on her left side.

The bruising had also been seen by Dr. Brackett who immediately began ordering x-rays and blood work. "What were the circumstances, Roy?"

The paramedic had worked with his medical director long enough to understand what the older man meant. "She was huddled in a corner of her kitchen in a fetal position, unconscious."

Dr. Brackett's piercing blue eyes looked up at his paramedic. "Was she further injured during the rescue?"

Roy felt the sting of the physician's words, even though he knew why the question was being asked. If positions had been reversed, he would have done the same thing. "No, this was how I found her."

"And how was she carried out?" Dr. Brackett continued his exam without looking at his paramedic.

"Cradle carry," Roy stated flatly.

Satisfied with the answers to his questions, Dr. Brackett positioned the earpieces of his stethoscope and began listening to his patient's breath sounds, a curious look crossing his face as his stethoscope moved lower and lower. He palpated her abdomen, grimacing at the small rounded mound between her navel and pubic bone.

"Is she?" Dixie asked, raising one eyebrow. She remembered the comment Johnny had made about a possible pregnancy.

"Get me a Doppler," the physician ordered.

"You need me, Doc?" Roy asked, backing towards the door.

Dr. Brackett looked over his shoulder at Roy. "No, go ahead."

Roy exited the room, looking down the corridor for his partner. Not seeing Johnny, he headed for the nurse's station in search of coffee and supplies. Several minutes passed before he heard a familiar voice.

"How's the patient?"

Roy looked behind him at his partner, then turned around and leaned against the counter. "I don't know. Brackett's still in there with her. She started coming around on the way in." He grimaced, tilting his round face slightly downwards. "She was in a lot of pain."

The two continued their conversation for a few minutes until Dr. Brackett and Dixie exited the treatment room with somber faces.

"What happened?" Roy asked with concern in his voice, fearing the worst. He had learned to recognize the look of defeat on the face of Dr. Kelly Brackett.

Dr. Brackett pocketed both hands into his lab coat. "She's got a good chance of making it, I think. Unfortunately, the baby didn't."

"She was pregnant then," Roy stated, setting his coffee cup down on the counter. "I-I wasn't sure."

"Well, I'm guessing that someone didn't want her to be. It looks like blunt force trauma in the abdominal area and lower left rib cage. There's fingerprint bruises forming along her right forearm. I thought I heard fetal heart tones at first, but when I got a Doppler to listen closer, I didn't hear any. An exam showed she was pregnant and based on fundal height, she was about 15 – 17 weeks, I'm guessing."

"How'd I miss that?" Roy questioned, running his hand along his chin. His voice held the sound of frustration.

"Between the noise at the scene and her own rapid heart rate, you probably couldn't have heard fetal heart tones even with a Doppler while out there," Dr. Brackett nodded toward the exterior wall of the Emergency Room.

Roy hung his head in defeat. "No, I mean the bruises. I didn't see them."

"Nothing you could've done anyway, Roy. Besides, with her broken ribs and internal bleeding, you were doing your job. You were focusing on the life-threatening issues first. She's going to be going up for surgery as soon as an OR opens up." He slapped the older paramedic on his shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong, Roy. Someone else did. Her injuries were not accidental, plus there are a few older bruises, too. Let's just hope she'll be able to tell the police what happened when she wakes up."

E!

Overhaul was progressing without incident. Chet and Marco continued working well together, as if there had been no earlier altercation. Mike and Hank were assisting with the clean-up, both keeping their eyes and ears open for any signs of distress from their two remaining crew members.

The crowd of on-lookers began to dwindle as the last wisps of smoke ascended towards the bright blue heavens. There were wailing sounds of residents who had just watched most of their worldly possessions disappear before their eyes. What the fire didn't destroy, the smoke and water damaged beyond repair. Thankfully, there were no fatalities to report from this particular incident, although there had been two injuries, one critical. Those left on scene were unaware of the fetal demise experienced by the second victim.

Amid the remaining crowd, behind a few of the taller men, stood a dark-haired beauty. She had watched her friend being carried away in an ambulance and she silently prayed to the God she feared no longer listened to her prayers, that her friend might survive the harrowing experience. She wanted to follow the ambulance to the hospital, but she had no means of transportation. Instead, she simply stood back and watched the men from the county fire department do their jobs. One man in particular caught her attention. Her brown eyes followed his every move. She hadn't seen him in a very long time, but the outline of his face, even beneath his helmet, was unmistakable. She had seen it almost daily for nearly a decade and a half. Now, she just hoped he wouldn't see her. It was one thing to know how disappointed her family was with what she had done, but to see it written on the face of her older brother was more than her shattered heart could handle. She quickly wiped away the lone tear that threatened to leave a damp trail down her tanned cheek. She had learned to hide her emotions, her fears and her guilt. Tears were a sign of weakness that she had seen exploited too many times. They were a symbol of the humanity of which she no longer felt a part.

E!

The two paramedics rolled down the streets of Carson, windows lowered allowing the cool air to blow across their soot-covered sweaty faces. Johnny occasionally stole a glance at his partner, worried about the older man's recriminations regarding the unseen bruises on their second victim. He decided to break the silence with something that he considered to be good news.

"Hey, Roy?"

Without turning his head, Roy responded. "Yea?"

"I, uh, I thought about something while we were off," Johnny stated, using the heels of his hands to rub his eyes. His sweat-soaked bangs blowing in the wind had irritated them.

"And?" Roy really wasn't in the mood to hear another of his young partner's hair-brained ideas.

"Well, I talked to Chet and…"

"Uh-oh," Roy groaned, turning right onto 223rd Street.

"No, really… See, Caroline is trying to find a part-time job so she can save money for another car. And that means that she needs daycare for Corrie," Johnny's hands were becoming more animated as his excitement grew.

"Okay, you gonna babysit?" Roy had no idea where Johnny was heading with his story.

"No, no, not me. See, I was thinkin'… What if Caroline took Joanne's job at the flower shop and Joanne kept Corrie? Joanne would make a little money doing something she loves and is really good at. She'd be at home, which is what she really wants anyway. You and the kids would be happy about that. Corrie would be safe and well cared for. Caroline would make some extra money to save for a car… Everybody wins," he grinned lopsidedly, proud of his plan.

Roy cut his eyes over at his partner, remaining silent as he backed the squad into the empty apparatus bay. The engine crew had not yet returned to the station. "What if Caroline doesn't want to work in a florist's shop? What if Jo doesn't want to give up her job? What if her boss doesn't want to hire Caroline?" He asked matter-of-factly, backing to a stop and staring at Johnny.

Johnny sat in his seat, his mouth hanging open slightly. "Huh?"

"Actually, I'm just kidding, Junior. That really doesn't sound like a bad idea. Have you mentioned it to Chet?"

Johnny grinned, thinking how nice it was to have Roy acting like his old self again. "Nah, haven't had a chance. I was gonna do it just before Marco TKO'd him this morning."

"Humph, yea, that was unusual wasn't it?" Roy opened his door, stepping out into the bay and slamming the door behind him.

Johnny waited for the sound of the two slamming doors to cease before he spoke back up. "Yea, somethin's up with Lopez. I tried talkin' to him earlier, but he wasn't in a talkin' kinda mood."

"Who's got lunch?" Roy asked, unable to remember who was supposed to be preparing their lunch, but assuming it was one of the engine crew. He felt uneasy talking about their lineman's unusual behavior and needed to change the subject.

"Uh, Stoker I think," Johnny responded, pouring a glass of water and passing it to Roy before pouring another one for himself. Both men knew the importance of hydrating after a fire.

"They'll likely be gone awhile. Why don't we go ahead and get some sandwiches started?" Roy asked, pulling a knife out of the drawer.

"Heck, yea, I'm always ready to eat," Johnny grinned.

E!

Back at the scene of the apartment fire, the engine crew from 51's climbed tiredly on board their rig. It had been a long morning for everyone involved, especially for the people who now were seeking the assistance of the Red Cross staff who had just arrived to offer a little relief to the victims. Marco watched as the line of weeping survivors began to form around the red-vested personnel. His tired blood-shot eyes swept over the scene as Mike started the engine.

This was not Marco's first time to survey this neighborhood. The last time he had been here, which was only a couple of weeks ago, he had been in a compromising position that could have resulted in an embarrassing arrest and ultimately a dismissal from the department had he been caught. That morning, shortly after midnight, a young lady had climbed into his car expecting to be paid for a particular illegal service. Instead, Marco had driven her to an abandoned parking lot where she was paid, not for her body, but for her information. The woman, known to Marco only as Sabrina, confirmed that a nineteen year-old woman named Alexia Lopez was indeed alive and staying somewhere in this section of town. Unfortunately, she was also known to be a Go-Go dancer, occasional stripper, and, more recently, a prostitute in the more run down areas of the city. During his encounter with Sabrina, an agreement had been reached between them. She would keep giving him updates on his wayward baby sister, whom he had always called Lexi, as long as Marco paid Sabrina for her time and information.

The engine bounced across another pothole, snapping Marco's mind back to the present. Now, as he watched the smoldering residential remains disappear from his view, he was left wondering if perhaps he had just assisted in extinguishing a fire that had destroyed what little shelter and possessions Lexi Lopez had acquired in the nearly five years she had been gone. And if so, perhaps this would be the catalyst for the return of the prodigal daughter.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

By the time the crew had finished eating lunch, the paramedics were just returning from their third run of the shift. Mike was running hot water in the sink, dribbling a bit of dishwashing liquid into the steaming hot stream, when he heard the slamming doors signaling the return of Roy and Johnny. Mike grinned, remembering the sight of the prepared but uneaten sandwiches on the table when the engine crew had returned. The food was evidence that the squad had been called out before the two paramedics had gotten a chance to eat their lunch. He waited for the door to swing open, then looked over at the man he knew was the hungrier of the two.

"Fresh food's on the table." Mike cocked his head in the direction of the table then returned to his dishwashing duty.

"Ah, thanks, Mike. Man, am I starvin'," Johnny complained, rubbing his hands together, heading for the cabinet to retrieve a clean glass. "We got any milk?"

"Yea, there's a carton in there. About half of it's gone, though, so you might want to pick up more on your next run," Mike responded.

"Will do," Johnny replied as he slathered four slices of bread with mayonnaise. He loaded up two slices with a variety of cold cuts and sliced veggies, then topped them with the remaining slices of fresh bread. He took a big bite of one of the sandwiches, then looked over at his partner who was still preparing his single sandwich. "Whatsa matter? Aren't ya hungry?" He asked, his jaw filled with half-chewed food.

"Yea, I'm just a bit more discerning about what I eat," Roy chided with a grin. He had to admit, bantering with the guys at the station again felt so much better than being uptight and angry all the time. That thought sent his mind reeling back to the events of the morning and the two missing linemen. "Uh, Stoker?"

"Yea?" Mike rinsed the glass he held in his hand as he waited for the question.

"Where's Chet and Marco?"

"Out back, I think. Marco asked Chet if he could help him hang the hoses. I'm hoping they're working out whatever was wrong this morning."

Johnny gulped his milk, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth as he listened to the conversation. He had to admit that the abrupt interruption of Chet's morning tale had been weighing heavily on his mind. He had always hated confrontations, especially after all he had witnessed in his late teenage years. He took another large bite of sandwich, forcing those long ago memories to remain in the recesses of his mind. He swallowed, then inhaled deeply before blowing out his cheeks in a cleansing exhalation, hiding his somber memories behind his lopsided grin and loud voice. "Well, a'right! I don't hafta hang hose."

"Says who?" Hank asked, his booming voice pushing through the open kitchen door a step ahead of him. He stood just inside the doorway, propped both hands on his hips, trying his best to hide the smirk he felt tugging at the corners of his mouth when he saw his younger medic's startled reaction.

Johnny jumped suddenly at the sound of his captain's booming voice resonating through the open kitchen door. "Oh, uh… Sorry, Cap. I was, uh…"

"At ease, Pal. Marco agreed to take your chores if you'll mop the bay for him. I figured you wouldn't mind." Hank grinned at his relieved man. "I agreed to the arrangement… I'm just hoping I won't end up with a lineman hanging FROM the hose, though."

A round of snickers echoed in the small kitchen. The comment was funny, but the situation involving their linemen was anything but comical.

"Yea, any idea what's eating at him?" There was no need to explain the question. Johnny knew that the other three men would know about whom he was referring. He bit off another quarter of the sandwich he still held in his hand and began chewing noisily.

"No," Hank rubbed his chin. "I was kind of hoping one of you fellas might know something."

"Nope, he just blew up at Chet this morning," Roy explained as the others nodded in agreement.

"Well… If anyone gets a chance to talk to him, please try to find out what's wrong… And, what I, er… What we can do to help him."

"I tried earlier," Johnny began. "While you were talkin' to Chet, but he didn't wanna talk about it."

"I see," Hank mused, not exactly sure that Johnny would be Marco's first choice when it came to confidences. He cast a furtive glance at his engineer.

Mike's blue eyes saw the unspoken message written on his superior's face. The engineer would do whatever he could to arrange a chance to speak privately with their senior lineman. The crew all knew that Mike was the least likely person to share a secret with anyone. Chet and Johnny were both talkers, especially when it came to a pretty face. Hank and Roy were married men, which created the opportunity for them to accidentally share something with their wives. Besides, both of them had also been through rocky episodes with their spouses recently, leaving them even more vulnerable to personal difficulties. That left Mike. Although quiet, the man was as honorable as any man could ever be. Therefore, it only made sense that if Marco needed a friend, Mike was the most obvious choice among the crew with whom to share his burden.

E!

"Okay, last one. Ya got it?"

"Yea," Marco called down to his partner who was standing on the ground, looking up at him through squinted eyes.

As soon as the task was completed, Marco began climbing down from the tower. When he stepped off the last rung, he called out to his partner who had already turned to head back inside the station. "Um, Chet?"

Chet turned sideways, looking back at his partner. "Yea?"

The older man cast his eyes downward, closing the distance between them before looking up again. "I wanted to apologize again for this morning. You didn't know I was in a bad mood, and… Well, what you were saying just hit me wrong somehow. I'm really sorry."

"Let it go, Lopez. It'll be alright." Chet wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't comfortable speaking to Marco about the earlier altercation. His own feelings were still hurt more than he wanted to admit.

"I hope it will. I know we're not okay yet, and I don't blame you." Marco continued staring at his own feet, his hands shoved in his navy blue pants pockets. "I do want to say that I appreciate whatever it was you told Cap earlier. He really should've sent me home, or… Or fired me. He had every right. And he would've if you'd told him you couldn't work with me. So, I just wanted to say thanks." He extended his hand in a gesture of gratitude.

Chet looked at the outstretched hand of his friend. He hesitated, running a nervous finger beneath his nose as he contemplated accepting the handshake. Then, he thought about how this man had stood up for him when he was in a similar spot with Captain Stanley, and slowly he reached out and firmly grasped the outstretched hand. "You did the same for me, Marco. It wasn't that long ago that I was in deep shit around here. You, ah… You stood up for me then, too. I'm just returning the favor."

Marco felt the backs of his eyes sting when Chet clasped his hand against Marco's own larger hand and firmly began to shake it. They had been partners since the station had opened; everyone except Captain Stanley was a member of the original crew. No one wanted to see them split up. When the contact between them was broken, they each turned and silently walked back into the station. Marco still had chores to complete, but he didn't mind the tasks he had been assigned. It felt good to believe that he was not going to be completely ostracized by his second family, while his family of origin seemed as if it might never be repaired.

Johnny was about to begin sweeping out the apparatus bay when he saw the two linemen talking and shaking hands. His lopsided grin threatened to break through just as they turned and started into the station. Quickly, he looked down whistling, obviously trying not to look as if he had just been eavesdropping. He looked up when Chet entered the bay and noticed Marco pushing through the latrine door to finish what he had started earlier.

"Oh, Kelly," Johnny began, leaning against the broom. "I've got a proposition for ya."

"No, thanks. I'm not that desperate. Besides, you're just not my type," Chet sneered, batting his lashes at Johnny.

"Oh, stow it, Kelly. It's not that kind of proposition. Besides, John Gage," he said, splaying his hand over his chest arrogantly, "never has to pay for it. If ya know what I mean."

"Yea, I know what you mean. No chicks are willing to give it up to you even for a lotta dough."

Roy walked out of the kitchen, having finally been given a chance to finish his lunch in peace. He stood hidden behind the squad listening to the bantering between Chet and Johnny. He laughed a little, then wiped the grin off his face. He needed to be serious if he was going to be able to join in the conversation.

Johnny couldn't help himself. Every time Chet dangled the bait, he bit. "Oh yea? Well, let me tell you what Holly and I did…"

"So, did you explain the plan to Chet yet?" Roy asked, stepping into the debate, trying to shut Johnny up before he embarrassed himself further.

Chet held up his hands, palms out. "No way, man. I don't want any part of some plan involving Johnny."

"Would you just shut up and listen for a minute. It doesn't involve you. It involves Joanne and Caroline," Johnny stated hotly, unaware of how his comment had sounded.

Roy saw his chance and jumped into the conversation. "What? You're propositioning Joanne AND Caroline?"

"Yea, Gage. What makes you think you've got something that Roy and I don't have, huh?" Chet quizzed, siding with Roy and trying not to laugh at Johnny's shocked expression.

"No, no way, man. It's not that, I mean, I was just wantin' to help the two of them out and…"

"Well, I think I can help out Joanne any time she needs my assistance," Roy said knowingly. "She sure as hell doesn't need you when she has me."

"That's right," Chet chimed in. "And, I'll take care of Caroline," he added. Truthfully, he wished he could take care of her in that way, but so far, they hadn't had the opportunity and he certainly didn't want to push her into something she wasn't yet ready for. She had shared her one and only sexual experience with him and he wasn't about to allow the event to be repeated. When the time was right, he wanted to truly make love to her. He inhaled deeply, willing himself back to the conversation at hand before his body responded to his thoughts in a rather embarrassing way.

"Wa-wait a minute. That isn't what I meant, fellas." Johnny shifted hands with the broom, moving it to his other side. "You've got this all wrong."

"Well, suppose you straighten it out for us, alright?" Roy asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Of course he already knew about the plan, but he was enjoying the banter.

"Okay, well… Let's go grab a snack and we can discuss it," Johnny said, smiling with relief at the opportunity to change the subject.

"Snack? You just ate lunch," Roy complained.

"Yea, we're gonna start callin' you Shaggy and not because of your hair," Chet joked, following the paramedics into the kitchen. "If you weren't so agile on rescues, I'd swear you were smokin' grass, Gage."

"Ha-ha," Johnny yelled out as he pushed his way through the kitchen door. He grabbed an apple from the refrigerator then threw one of his legs over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He sank his teeth into the red apple with a crunching sound. "Okay, here's my idea, Chet."

Mike listened for a moment as he dried the last of the dishes and gently set them down inside the cabinet. He returned the drying towel to its designated spot, then headed out of the kitchen. With Hank working on reports and Roy and Chet sitting around the kitchen table engrossed in one of John's schemes, he knew that left Marco alone somewhere in the station, and now was as good a time as any to try to talk to him.

Inside the latrine, Marco finished polishing up the mirror. He tossed the used paper towel into the trash can just as the door opened. He nodded a greeting at Mike, unsure how his engineer was feeling towards him after his earlier outburst.

"Looks good, Marco. Not everyone remembers to clean the mirror," Mike commented.

"Thanks." Marco bent down, retrieving his cleaning supplies. "I'll get out of your way," he said, assuming the engineer needed a few moments of privacy in the latrine.

"Um, actually, I was wondering if I might talk to you for a minute?"

The lineman felt his heart skip a beat. "About what? Did I do something wrong at the fire this morning?"

"No, of course not," Mike said, taking a seat on one of the benches. "If you had, Cap would've told you, not me," he said, offering a brief smile. "I never say much around here, but I'm a good listener. If something's wrong, Marco, then I'd like to help." Mike's blue eyes stared compassionately at his friend.

Marco hung his head, his dark eyes brimming with tears. Everyone knew that his morning behavior wasn't just a sudden misunderstanding. They all knew that something was terribly wrong. He couldn't hide it and he didn't know how much longer he could keep up his searching without it affecting his work; obviously, it already had. He plopped down on the bench across the aisle from his engineer.

"I don't know, Mike. It isn't that I don't trust you. I do. I just don't know if I can talk to anybody. It's… It's something shameful for me and my family." He stared at his hands clasped together in his lap.

"By shameful, I'm assuming you mean that one of your family members has done something?" Mike knew how close Marco was to his large family, both immediate and extended. He also knew that their religious beliefs were very important to them and so, he surmised that Marco's rage had been brought on by a family member's misdeeds.

Marco merely shook his head. He thought briefly about sharing the details with Mike, then thought better of it. He looked back up, staring at the wall in front of him. "I appreciate your concern, Stoker. I really do, but… I just can't get into it right now. Not here."

Mike pressed his lips into a thin line. He had been sure the older man was about to reveal something important to him. "Okay, I don't wanna pressure you about anything, but..." Mike stepped forward, clapping his lineman on the shoulder. "If you need me, I'm here, anytime."

Marco looked away, nodding his head appreciatively. He tried to thank his friend for his concern, but only succeeded in making a choking sound. He cleared his throat then tried again. "Ahem, thanks." Mike headed back to the other side of the station to finish straightening up the dayroom. He just hoped that the three men he'd left at the kitchen table were finished with their conversation.

Back inside the kitchen, Johnny was grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. He could tell that the two men sitting with him at the table were buying into his idea about Joanne and Caroline switching places. Joanne would keep Corrie while Caroline worked at the florist's shop. The part he couldn't tell them about was the real reason why he wanted Joanne out of Iris Campbell's shop.

"So…," Johnny clapped his hands in front of him then rubbed them together as if he were about to devour a feast. "You'll talk to them about it?"

Chet and Roy looked at each other, then back at Johnny. Both had agreed that the idea sounded like a perfect solution. Now, they both shook their heads in agreement.

"But, what if Joanne's boss doesn't like the idea?" Chet asked.

"Oh, she will," Johnny waved his hand in front of his face as if blowing off Chet's concern. "As long as she gets help, she doesn't care."

Roy narrowed his eyes at his nonchalant partner. It almost sounded as if Johnny had already gotten the approval of Iris Campbell to make the switch. "How do you know?"

"I-um, well, I don't… I mean, uh… What's there not to like? Everyone is happy, right?"

Chet cocked his head to the side. "Hey, wait a minute. What do you get outta this, Gage? What's in it for you?"

"Me?" Johnny asked incredulously. "Nothin'. I mean, I don't want anything. I just thought about it and it seemed obvious to me. This way, everyone's happy." How could he tell them that he really didn't want his best friend's wife working for a woman he had known for the last ten years? What would happen if somehow, Iris let something slip about their past together? After all, there were things in his past that even Roy didn't know he had been involved in… And he intended to keep it that way.

E!

That night, the lighting in the dayroom was dim while most of the crew sat around the sole source of light, the television set, engrossed in an old black and white horror movie. The jarring sound of the telephone ringing elicited a few gasps from the five men whose nerves were beginning to fray. Hank jumped up and quickly answered it.

"Station 51, Captain Stanley speaking…. Oh, yes ma'am," he spoke softly into the receiver. He placed the hand set against his chest to cover his voice. "Lopez," he whispered loudly, holding up the phone in the direction of his lineman.

Marco stood up quickly. "I'll take it in the dorm," he said, rushing out the door. Very few people called him at the station which meant this was likely his mother. If she was calling him at nine o'clock at night, then she must have received another call herself.

In the latrine, Mike stepped out of the shower and quickly towel-dried himself off. He wrapped the white towel around his narrow waist and stepped barefooted across the cold floor to his locker. While standing there, pulling out his boxers and a tee shirt, he overheard his senior lineman talking in the dorm. Feeling like a heel, he sat back down on the bench hoping to hear a bit of information to explain Marco's unusual behavior.

"Mama, did she say anything else?" Marco questioned, begging his mother to reveal something useful to him. "Okay, but she said she's alright, right?"

'_She_?' Mike thought to himself. '_Who is he talking about_?' The engineer leaned back slightly, hoping to hear a little better.

"Did you hear any background noises?" Marco hesitated a moment, then continued. "Big trucks?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, his fatigue getting the better of him. "Okay, Mama. You did great… No, no it's no problem calling me here. Call me anytime you need to, you know that… Yes, ma'am… Give Ant a hug for me and… Yes, I know. I love you too, Mama… Goodnight."

Mike quickly jumped up, pulling the towel from his waist and quickly covering his nakedness with his white boxers and tee shirt. He was finger-combing his damp hair when he heard the door between the dorm and locker room open. He pretended to ignore the man walking through, hoping Marco wouldn't know he had overheard anything. "Oh, hey Marco. Shower's empty if you want to jump in."

Marco sat down heavily, exhaling loudly. "Yea, I could use a hot shower right about now."

Mike sensed his opening. "You okay?"

Again, he considered telling Mike about his family situation, but just as quickly the thought passed. He didn't want to get into the middle of his family shame and have the tones sound, or worse, have Johnny or Chet interrupt the story. He sighed heavily then pushed his tired body into a standing position. "Just the usual," the older man groaned, standing up slowly to gather his toiletries for the shower.

E!

Back at the Lopez residence, Maria Lopez tucked her youngest grandchild into bed, kissing him lightly on the forehead. "Did you say your prayers?"

"Si," the youngster answered, grinning with the use of his newly acquired Spanish word.

"Sleep well, Antonio."

"G'night," the dark-haired child said, sleepily rolling over onto his side and closing his eyes.

Maria returned to her bedroom, sitting down on the edge of her bed. She stared at the telephone; the same one she had just used to speak to her youngest child a half an hour earlier. She had been expecting the call, especially since tomorrow she would be celebrating her 58th birthday. Alexia Lopez never failed to call her mother around her birthday, even after the young girl left home so unexpectedly.

Maria sighed, stretching her arms over her head and releasing the bun she had worn all day. Her salt and pepper hair cascaded down around her shoulders. Using her fingers, she massaged her scalp, then ran her fingers through the length of her locks. She wiggled her toes as she rubbed her feet, feeling the achiness from her last few days of working around the house without sleep. Now that she knew her daughter was still alive, she hoped she would be able to sleep tonight. Her biggest fear had not yet been realized – her precious child was not a nameless body lying in a morgue waiting to be claimed by the family who hadn't seen her in years.

She pushed her ample body up, walking over to her chest of drawers and withdrawing her lavender nightgown. Quickly, she changed into her bed clothes and returned to pull the covers back on her bed. Then, as she had done every night for as long as she could remember, she knelt down beside her bed to pray.

E!

Morning tones sounded, pulling a sleepy crew back to wakefulness. They had only gotten back in bed around four in the morning from a late night fire. Hank was the first to drag his body out of bed to acknowledge that the station was up and moving. "Station 51, KMG-365."

"Damn," Chet groaned. "Is it that time already?"

"Ye-ep," Johnny affirmed, his mouth opening in an unflattering yawn.

One by one the men trudged from the dorm, pulling on their bunkers and snapping their suspenders in place. Mike was trying to look busy hoping to have a chance to speak to Marco one more time. His careful maneuvering around his bed paid off, and he stood up just as a weary-looking Marco shuffled in front of him.

"Lopez? Wanna grab some breakfast when 'B' gets here?"

Marco hesitated for a moment. He had been considering Mike's concerned questions, and offers of assistance, since the beginning of the shift. He knew that he needed to let off some steam before he exploded at someone again. He also knew that Mike was even more familiar with Los Angeles than he was, and that perhaps the younger man might be able to identify the street sounds Maria Lopez had heard in the background during the phone call from Alexia last night. Never had Marco felt as uptight as he did now. His baby sister was so close and yet, so far away. As his mother's birthday came and went each year, he worried more and more that she might never see her precious Lexi again. Today was another reminder of the future he so feared. He knew he needed to go back home to spend the day with his mother, but he also knew that he was in no frame of mind to head straight home after shift.

Letting go of his concerns about revealing the Lopez shame to Mike, he reluctantly agreed. "I'd appreciate that, Stoker," Marco said, running his fingers over his mustache.

"Good, it's my treat," the engineer said with a warm, inviting smile. There was no judgment, no ridicule in his crystal blue eyes. With a friendly, supportive hand, Mike patted his friend on the shoulder and the two made their way towards their first morning cup of coffee.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Hey, Chet?" Johnny yelled across the back parking lot. The crew had just been relieved of duty by the on-coming shift, leaving the men of A-shift scattering in a hurry to reach their destinations.

The curly-haired linemen spun on his heels, staring exasperatedly at his annoying friend. "Yea?"

"You gonna talk to Caroline about the plan?"

Chet rolled his eyes at the lanky paramedic. "Yes, Gage. If you'll lemme leave. You're holdin' me up just standing here askin' a stupid question."

Johnny closed the gap between them, flashing his lopsided grin across his chiseled face. He slapped the shorter man on his back as they both walked towards their cars. "A'right, okay. I just wanna help you and Roy out, ya know?"

Chet opened his van door, cocking his head to one side as he looked questioningly at his friend. "What are you really up to?"

Johnny backed up, his hands raised in mock surrender. "Hey, I got no agenda," he said with a smile that failed to light up his brown eyes. Quickly, he sauntered over to his Rover, plopped his narrow hips in the driver's seat then backed out of the parking spot without giving Chet a second glance. One thing Johnny loathed was a liar, especially when he was the one doing the lying and his friends were his target audience.

As Chet's VW van followed John's Rover out of the side driveway, Mike and Marco walked across the parking lot.

"How about the Pourhouse?"

Marco looked over at his engineer as they walked side by side to their respective vehicles. He was beginning to have second thoughts about his breakfast plans, but knew he needed to debrief somewhat before returning to his mother's home. He was still keyed up from his phone call with her the previous night, and his fatigue was displayed on his tanned features, leaving his body aching from exhaustion.

"Uh, yes, that sounds good. I like their waffles," Marco replied, hoping he sounded surer of himself than he felt.

"Alright, see ya there."

The two men were parting ways just as Roy exited the building. He had seen Mike and Marco talking and hoped that Mike might be getting through to their senior linemen. He recognized the stress etching itself across Marco's face. He had seen the same tell-tale signs on his own face recently. Thankfully, he was now well-rested and he and Joanne were closer than they had been in a long time. Whatever had caused Marco to lose control yesterday, was obviously still hiding behind the man's stern features, and Roy feared that if it wasn't dealt with appropriately, it would surface again at some inopportune time, costing Marco his career in the fire service. Roy knew how devastating harboring such strong emotions could be, and he hoped that whatever Mike had said was exactly what Marco needed to hear.

Roy tossed his bag into the passenger's seat of his sports car then climbed in. In a few moments, he was shifting gears as he sped into the street heading for home. His auburn hair was blowing in the wind as a smile found its way across his ruddy features. He couldn't wait to get home and discuss Johnny's plan with Joanne. He just hoped that she, Caroline, and Iris would all agree to the arrangement. In his heart, he knew that taking care of Corrie was just what Joanne needed, and would be more fulfilling to her than her job at the florist's shop. Now, all he had to do was convince her.

E!

Chet turned into the parking lot of his apartment complex, his heart increasing its tempo at the sight of Caroline's car parked in the space beside his usual parking spot. He wanted to rush to her, but he caught a whiff of himself as he slammed his van door shut, and decided that a quick shower was in order first. He pulled his keys out of his pocket then hustled up the stairs, dropping the keys as he fumbled with the lock on his door. As he bent over to pick them up, he heard an unmistakable catcall whistle. Mouthing a silent curse, he spun around, preparing to offer a suggestive finger to the offending man, but instead saw Caroline standing in her doorway giggling at him. He felt the blush cross his face with the realization that the whistle had come from her lips and was aimed at his backside. With a sheepish grin, he gave her a slight nod.

"Breakfast?" She called out across the courtyard.

"Love to. Lemme shower."

She wiggled her fingers in a flirty wave, then returned inside her apartment. She had plans for them today. She just hoped this time, things would work out better than on their previous encounter. She had been surprised by Charles and Mim Marks yesterday when they had called asking if they could take Corrie to San Diego for a couple of days. Chet had no idea that the two of them would be alone for his days off, and she couldn't wait to spend some quality time with the man she loved. This morning, she was determined to say those words to him for the first time, and perhaps show him, as well.

E!

At the DeSoto residence, Joanne was putting the finishing touches on breakfast for her family when her husband came through the door.

"Morning, sweetheart," she said with a smile as Roy walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"What's this?" He asked, eyeing a large breakfast of pancakes and bacon.

"I wanted to fix you a special breakfast," she said, leaning back into his embrace, turning off the stove.

Roy lightly kissed her exposed neck. "Mmmm, I can't wait. I'm so hungry, but don't you have to work today?"

"I'm going in a little later. I don't have to be there until ten." She spun around, wrapping her arms around his neck, their lips meeting in a tender, yet passionate kiss.

As their lips finally parted, Joanne laid her head against the muscular chest of the man she had loved since they were children. "I love you so much, Roy. I promise, I'm going to ask Iris to cut back on my hours, or maybe hire someone else. My place is right here."

"And mine is right here with you and the kids, too. He kissed her forehead once more, pulling her tighter as a reminder of what he had nearly thrown away not so long ago. After a few tender moments of holding her and caressing her back, he pulled away so he could look into her bright green eyes. "Baby, Johnny had a wonderful idea that I think might make everything work out for everyone involved."

"What kind of idea?" She tilted her head to the side, staring questioningly at her husband. Joanne knew that all too often Johnny's ideas were vexatious.

"Well," Roy began, tenderly brushing a few stray locks of hair away from her face. "He thought that maybe Caroline could work at the flower shop and you could provide daycare for Corrie." His heart thudded nervously inside his chest, unsure of what Joanne might think of the idea. He watched as she stared into nothingness beside him, then felt a huge relief as a big grin spread across her face.

"But what makes you think Caroline will want a job?"

Roy felt like kicking himself for jumping ahead in the conversation. He had forgotten to share the most important thing with her. So, as they carried their breakfast plates to the table and began eating their meal, he relayed the events of the last few days, including the bite mark on Corrie's back. By the end of his story, he had finished eating his meal. Dropping his napkin onto his empty plate, he looked over at his wife.

"That's heartbreaking for both of them. Poor little Corrie; I'm so glad we never had to worry about daycare." Joanne's heart ached for what her friend must be feeling, needing to work and yet, not being able to trust that her child would be safe in the home of the daycare provider.

"So, will you think about it?"

Joanne's face was beaming. "No."

"No?" he questioned, confused by her happy face.

"Nothing to think about. If Caroline wants to do this and Iris will agree, then… Then it would be the perfect arrangement for everyone." She leaned in for another kiss as she stood up and the two of them carried their dishes back to the kitchen.

"I'll take care of these, sweetheart," he said, running water into the sink and taking the empty plates from her hands, preparing to wash the dishes. He remembered all too well coming home to an empty house with empty cereal bowls stacked in the sink. He was more grateful than ever for the blessing of his family. He was indeed a lucky man, something he would never again take for granted. "You go ahead and get ready. I know it's Saturday, so there's no telling when the kids will wake up. I'll feed them when they get up."

E!

Chet looked at his reflection in his bathroom mirror, patting his damp curly hair in place. He spritzed a bit of cologne on his bare chest, so the scent would be faint, then headed for his closet. He stepped into his jeans, pulling a t-shirt over his head as he walked down the hallway. He slipped his huarache sandals on and headed out the door. He couldn't wait to share Johnny's idea with Caroline. He just hoped she would agree to it.

Inside her apartment, Caroline prepared two breakfast plates with eggs, bacon, and toast. She spooned a mixture of cut fruit into two bowls and poured a couple of glasses of orange juice. Just as she placed the two plates on the table, she heard the knock she had been waiting for.

"Right on time," she whispered to herself, her face glowing.

Chet's smile broadened when she opened the door. She looked radiant standing in the golden morning sunlight. He stepped inside, leaning down to offer her a quick kiss, but was surprised by her wrapping her arms around his neck. He had only planned a quick chaste peck on the lips, and wondered what was going through her mind. She ran her fingers through his damp hair, opening her mouth to him. When she pressed her body against his, Chet returned both her embrace and her passion. His tongue darted out tentatively, still unsure of what she wanted. Silently, he rejoiced when she returned the gesture, hearing a slight moan escape from deep inside her throat as their contact continued. When the kiss finally ended, he looked deep into her eyes, shocked by the dark desire he thought he saw there.

"Well, good morning, Ms. Marks," he grinned.

"Good morning, Mr. Kelly," she whispered, never releasing her arms from around his neck. "Hungry?"

His body was hungry for more than just food; his lower anatomy was responding to her close contact, and he briefly considered giving her a sexually suggestive answer to her question. However, he didn't want to say or do anything to offend her. They seemed to be back on the right track, and the last thing he wanted to do was endanger that in any way.

"Starvin'," he finally answered.

"Good, have a seat," she began, breaking their physical contact and leading him over to the table. "Let me get the fruit and the juice."

"I'll help," he offered, following her into the small kitchen.

The two of them quickly returned to the table, the fruit bowls and orange juice in hand, and took their seats.

"So, how was your shift?"

"Oh, not as busy as it normally is. So, I won't need to sleep all day," he offered with a grin.

Their light conversation continued as they ate their breakfast. Chet had almost cleaned his plate when he looked back up at his companion. "Caroline, this is really good. Thank you so much," he said, sincerity filling his longing blue eyes.

"You're welcome," she said, shrugging sheepishly. "I really like to cook. Maybe I should try to find a job in a restaurant," she suggested, returning her attention to her bowl of fruit.

"Speaking of a job for you, Johnny had a great idea."

"Oh yea?" She scooped a slice of banana into her spoon, looking excitedly at her friend.

"He thought that maybe you could take Joanne's job at Bloomers and then Joanne could keep Corrie." Chet then looked around the room, realizing that they seemed to be one person short at the breakfast table. "Hey, is Ladybug still asleep?"

"Not sure," Caroline managed to say, swallowing her food. "But I doubt it." She couldn't stop the grin from overtaking her face as she watched Chet's face contort in confusion. "She's with her grandparents for the next two days. They called me yesterday morning wanting to take her to San Diego. I think they're taking her to the zoo or something."

A hint of his mischievous grin slowly crawled over his lower face. "You mean, we're unchaperoned?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, her own flirty grin finding its way to the surface, lighting up her face.

"Ooohhh, so that's why you gave me such a warm welcome, huh?"

A blush started at the base of her neck and quickly moved up, coloring her tender features. She batted her eyelashes, pushing the tears back as she reached her hand over to grasp his larger one. Then looking deeply into his eyes, she finally found the courage to express her feelings to him. "Yes, not having Corrie here did have a little something to do with it. I don't want to set a bad example for her, but… The real reason is because…," she squeezed his hand for emphasis. "Because I love you."

Chet froze, his blood rushing in his ears nearly deafening him. Had he heard her correctly? "You, ah, you…" The warmth in his smile was contagious as belief finally made its way to his face. He had not misunderstood her. She had truly said the words he had been longing to hear. "You do? Ar-are you sure?"

Caroline shifted in her chair so she could look directly at him. Reaching out with her other hand, she held his larger hand in both of hers. She felt the tears springing forward and did nothing to hinder their progress as they coursed down her face. "I-I've never felt romantic love before and… Well, what I'm feeling now is so foreign to me… but, I know that it's such a wonderful feeling. Since we've been seeing each other, all I think about when we're apart is… is when we'll be together again." She could see that her words were reaching the deepest parts of his heart. Even though she was crying, the words continued to pour out. "It's like a large part of me is missing when we're apart. When we had the… Uh, that misunderstanding… I was so heartbroken, not by what I thought had happened, but because I missed you so much. And I'm whole again now that we're back together. I…," she ran her thumb across the back of his hand. "I think that's what romantic love is, isn't it?"

Chet lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it softly as he looked at her through his own misty eyes. "Yea, that's exactly what it is. Caroline, I love you so much. But, please… please don't cry?" He asked, running the back of his fingers slowly across her damp cheek.

Caroline closed her eyes, lost in the sensual feeling of him softly wiping away her tears. Sniffling, she whispered to him. "They're… happy… tears."

Chet stood, pulling her upwards into his embrace. He held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head as they gently swayed from side to side. "I promise you that I will never, ever hurt you…. Or Corrie. I-I love both of you more than anything."

Caroline relished the warmth and safety of his embrace, but now was the time to say the rest of what she wanted to tell him. She pulled away from him slightly, looking deeply into his crystal blue eyes. "You really do love me? You're sure?"

With one hand remaining on her back, he used the other to cup the side of her face. Their eyes never broke contact, each seeing into the soul of the other. "Yes, yes, I love you more than you could ever imagine."

Without missing a beat, Caroline licked her dry lips, then whispered to him her deepest desire. "Then show me. Please, Chet… Please show me what it's like when two people love each other. Please make love to me."

E!

Marco walked into the diner and headed for a quiet booth. Gretchen picked up a menu and was about to walk over to his table when the bell on the door jingled a second time. Looking up, she recognized the engineer who she knew worked the same shift as Marco at 51's. She gave him a tired smile and pulled a second menu from behind the counter, picked up a fresh pot of coffee and hurried over to the place where the two men sat.

"Good morning, fellas. Two black coffees, right?" She asked, placing the menus in front of the men as both of them turned their coffee cups over, waiting for her to pour them a fresh cup.

"Yes, ma'am." Marco looked at his menu as he answered.

Mike managed to look up and give her a pleasant smile. "Yes, please."

"Okay, do you need a few minutes, or do you know what you want?" She asked, pulling out her pad and pencil.

"Waffles with bacon," Marco responded, his voice sounding tired.

"And, I'll have the omelet with ham, cheese, onions, and peppers," Mike said, handing his menu back to Gretchen.

"Onions and peppers, huh? Your girlfriend might not like that," she said with a slight wink.

"Uh, no girlfriend, so I'm free to eat what I want," Mike snickered, handing his menu to her.

Gretchen grinned back at the handsome engineer. Tucking the menus beneath her arm, she picked up the coffee pot, and headed back towards the counter to turn in their order to the cook.

"She seems to be relaxing a little bit," Mike offered, his blue eyes following the retreating waitress. He remembered how uptight she had been when she first started working at the diner. Now, he was pleased to see that she was comfortable enough with them to carry on a conversation and even flirt a little. When Marco didn't respond to his comment, Mike returned his attention back to his friend. "How about you?"

Marco continued staring into the dark liquid in his cup. Suddenly realizing that Mike was waiting for a response, he looked up. "Hmm?"

Worry lines formed along Mike's brow. "I was wondering if you were relaxing any."

"You mean about what happened yesterday?" Marco knew what Mike meant, but felt the need to stall while he formulated an appropriate response. He exhaled a soft sigh, clasping his hands together in front of his mouth. "I don't know, Stoker. I-I'm having some issues at home, and I guess I brought them with me to work yesterday."

"Well… That's why we're here." Mike wasn't sure what to say, but he knew his friend needed a listening ear. Mike had always been known as the quietest man on the shift, but that fact also made him the best listener.

"Mike… I can only think of one thing that will help… and I don't know how to make that happen."

"I'm listening," Mike said, hoping Marco would keep talking. He sensed that the older man was on the verge of revealing his problem, and Mike didn't want to hinder him in any way. "Maybe talking about it will help."

"Doubt it," Marco huffed in a sarcasm-laced voice. "If the cops couldn't help, then what can a couple of firemen do?"

Mike had no idea where their conversation was headed, but Marco was talking, and Mike wanted to keep it that way. He reached for his cup of coffee, blowing on it a little before taking a sip. "Well, you know what they say? God made firemen so cops would have heroes."

The lineman gave a brief smile. He hadn't felt like a hero in a very long time. He wanted more than anything to be a hero and return Lexi to their family. Then, another part of Mike's statement stabbed him in his heart of hearts. "God. Humph. Sometimes, I think God has turned His back on me and my family."

Mike knew that Marco's faith was very important to him. His negative comments made Mike's stomach drop. This was much more serious than he had previously thought.

"Shit," Marco cursed, uncharacteristically. "I forgot to call Mama. She'll be worried that I got held over at a fire." He pulled himself out of the booth, fishing in his pocket for a dime as he trudged towards the wall near the restrooms where there was a pay phone.

Mike didn't think his friend could look any more depressed, that is, until his countenance fell when he mentioned his mother. Mike tried not to stare at the man as he made his phone call, but it was hard to move his eyes away from the down-trodden figure leaning against the wall. Marco's shoulders appeared to be breaking beneath the weight of the world. When he noticed Marco hanging up the receiver, Mike quickly coughed into his closed fist, returning his attention to his coffee. He hoped Marco had not seen him watching while he made the private phone call. He waited for Marco to take his seat again before returning to the conversation.

"Did you put her mind at ease?"

"Yea," Marco huffed. "At least, as far as I'm concerned."

Mike knew exactly what Marco meant, but it was a perfect segue back to the issue at hand. "What do you mean?

"Nothing, sorry, Stoker."

Mike couldn't let the conversation drop. He felt like his friend was so close to opening up to him. "You said something about God forgetting about you and your family. How so?"

Marco hesitated, seeing Gretchen returning with their plates. He waited for her to leave before he answered Mike's question.

"Because my family and I have been praying for my sister for five years, and there's still no answer." Marco reached for the syrup, pouring a generous amount on his waffles. He took a bite of his bacon, swallowing the salty crispy strip before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Mike, my baby sister, Alexia, ran away from home just before her 15th birthday. She's nineteen now, and she's only been home once since the night she left. She calls Mama around Mama's birthday and Christmas, but other than that, we never hear from her."

Mike swallowed a bite of his omelet. He was shocked by the news he had just heard. "Any idea why she left, or where she might be?"

Marco looked down again. This was the part he didn't like to share. "She left after announcing she was pregnant. She had an older boyfriend that none of us approved of. She was sneaking out to meet him around the time that I moved out on my own, a few months before 51's opened. She was a good Catholic girl, Mike. Then, after this guy came into her life, she refused to attend Mass, and… And she got pregnant. Remember Antonio, from the last Firefighter's Picnic?"

"Oh, yea, your nephew, right? Cute kid," Mike snickered, remembering how the dark-haired child had followed Marco around like a shadow all afternoon.

"Ant is her son. She literally left him on Mama's doorstep. She just rang the doorbell and walked away." Marco looked up, tears spilling from his eyes. "She chose that sorry bastard over her own baby, Mike." He ran his open palm down his face, smearing the dampness. "When Mama opened the door, she caught a glimpse of Lexi getting into the guy's car at the corner of the street. That was the last time my Mama saw her youngest child."

"So, he was just a baby at the time?"

Marco swiped at the streaks of moisture once more. "Yea… He was just a few days old. A few weeks later, the birth certificate came in the mail. He'll have to start school in a couple of years and… Damn it," Marco planted his chin in his hands, trying to slow down his breathing. "He's going to see that all the other kids have mothers…, except him. Mama thinks we're running out of time."

"Oh, man," Mike sighed, struggling to comprehend what his friend was telling him. He stared at his fork momentarily, swirling a string of melted cheese, then looked up at his lineman. "Marco, I had no idea. I knew that your nephew lived with your mother, but I didn't know why. I'm so sorry." Mike paused, wondering if he should continue, but he felt like he was in too deep to stop now. "I hope I don't offend you or anything, but… Do you think maybe drugs are involved?"

"I don't know. I'd like to think that she wouldn't do something that stupid, but… But it seems like everything she's done since she became a teenager has been stupid." Marco ran a hand through his hair, frustration swirling with embarrassment rising upwards to his face. He shook his head somberly. "Mama seems to think drugs are involved, but… Ugh," he groaned. "I don't know. Maybe Mama's right. I mean, why else would she do what she's done?"

Mike kept his fork hovering over the remaining pieces of his omelet as their conversation continued. He cleared his throat, hoping that Marco would accept the offer he was about to make. "Tell me how I can help."

Marco once again felt the stinging begin in the backs of his eyes. He knew that Mike was sincere, but there was no way he could accept the kind of help he thought the younger man was offering. "Look, I really appreciate the offer, but…," he hesitated a moment, gulping to force the lump in his throat back down enough that he could continue his explanation. "I've been searching on my off time for weeks now… I can't ask you to…"

"You aren't," Mike interrupted. "I'm giving you my help. Just tell me what to do."

Marco rubbed his temples with his fingertips while he sighed in frustration. His head was pounding, and he really wanted to do nothing more than sleep. However, he knew that sleep was hours away, if it happened at all, and he was quickly reaching the limit of his strength – both physically and emotionally. "You don't understand, Stoker. She's my baby sister and I love her, but you don't know what she's doing."

"So tell me," Mike pushed his friend a little harder, reaching for his coffee. He knew, based on Marco's comment, that Alexia Lopez had not simply run away or disappeared. The Lopez family knew where she was, but for whatever reason, they had not been able to bring her back home. Questions were whirling around inside Mike's mind. When he realized that Marco wasn't going to give him any more information, he decided to change tactics. "Did you report her as a runaway?"

Marco could feel his anger beginning to bubble to the surface again. He knew that Mike was asking a reasonable question, and he knew he owed him a reasonable answer. He pushed his anger back into its hiding place and continued on with the conversation. "Yes, of course we did, but the cops never found her."

"But it sounds like you might have an idea of where she is, so why don't we just go there and I'll help you look. Maybe together we can find her and you can convince her to return home?"

Marco released an audible groan. He didn't want anyone to know about her, and so far, he had been able to keep the family shame a secret. Now, he was being asked directly, and he knew he couldn't lie to his friend. Forcing out the information, his voice cracked when he finally spoke the truth about her. "She's a… Damn it," he mumbled, feeling nauseated about what he was about to say. "She's a lot lizard, Stoker."

"A what?"

"A lot lizard," Marco repeated. "That's what truck drivers call them. The last time she was seen, about six months ago, she was working a truck stop about fifty miles north of here… She's a…," his nostrils flared as he ground his teeth together, trying to control his emotions. Staring down at his half-eaten plate of food, unable to look at his friend, he finally managed to force the words out. "She's a… prostitute."

E!

A/N: There is another section to this chapter, but I couldn't post it here. The details for Chet and Caroline became a little too explicit for this site. If you want to continue this chapter, please go to AO3 or PM me and I can send you the last section. Thank you to all of you who are reading this story and have been following this entire series. I appreciate you and the support you have provided me.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Marco couldn't stop the yawn that stretched his face as he pulled the cake out of his mother's oven. He removed the oven mitts, testing the corners of the rectangular cake to see if they would spring back beneath his touch, then rubbed his weary eyes. Satisfied that the cake was done, he pushed the metal pan to the back of the stove. He didn't want to risk his nephew burning himself if he happened to touch the hot pan.

"Mmmm, that smells delicious."

Marco turned around to see his closest sibling standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "Thanks, Carlos."

The younger Lopez brother placed his fingers in the back pockets of his jeans as he sauntered over to the stove where Marco stood somberly. "I take it you haven't had any luck in your search either, huh?"

Marco shook his head, looking back at the cake to avoid eye contact. "I've been lurking around every truck stop within a 75 mile radius on my days off. I'm surprised I haven't been arrested for loitering. I've seen plenty of girls, but… But not her."

Carlos pulled out a chair from the table, taking a seat, and gesturing for his older brother to join him. "You know I agree with what you're doing, right?"

"Yes, I know. And I appreciate that. I just wish our brothers agreed with us," Marco huffed, resting his weary body for a few moments.

"Rafael is busy. He's doing so well at UCLA; I don't want anything to interfere with his studies, especially when he's only one semester away from graduating."

Marco grimaced. Alexia should be finishing up her freshman year in college, just as Rafael was completing his senior year. Instead, she never even finished high school, as far as anyone knew. "And Cristobal?"

Carlos leaned forward, looking around to make sure that their mother wasn't within hearing range. "He's our brother, my twin, and I love him, Marco, but he's… He's so ashamed of her that I think he's written her off."

"He's giving up on her? She's our baby sister. How can he do that?" Marco felt his tanned face reddening with anger.

"He thinks she can just quit anytime she wants." Carlos leaned back in his seat, his dark hair falling into his face. He brushed it away, waiting for Marco to tell him he needed a haircut. When the admonishment from his older brother didn't happen, he continued. "He just doesn't get it."

"Are you still with me on this?"

"Of course I am," the younger man agreed. "I've been searching, too. Not as much as you have, but I haven't seen anything." He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Juanita is getting frustrated with me. She's… I think she's starting to think I'm cheating on her."

"Ugh," Marco exclaimed. "I was afraid of that. Look, don't let this ruin your marriage." He hesitated, not knowing if he should tell his brother about Mike's offer of assistance. However, if Marco was going to be left to search without Carlos' help, then he would need an additional set of eyes and, so far, Mike was the only one of his friends who knew of his family secret. Inhaling deeply, he proceeded. "Listen, I've, ah… I've told a friend of mine what's going on and… And he's offered to help out in the search. If you need to back off to take care of your family and your marriage, then I understand."

Carlos stared at the orange and yellow plastic placemats on the table; the same ones that had adorned the table back when Lexi still lived here. With watery eyes, he returned his gaze to his older brother. "I… I feel like I'm abandoning my little sister, Marco. I don't want to do that. I can't do it. But… But I can't lose my wife and kids, either," he said, his voice fraying like a weakened rope with his emotional tug-of-war.

Marco reached out, grasping the trembling hand of his younger brother. "I'll keep looking… Until the day I die, I'll keep looking. I don't have a wife and kids, Carlos. You do. Don't lose the happiness you've found with Juanita and the children for the uncertainty of finding Lexi. I won't think any less of you, my brother." Marco struggled with the words, but he meant them from his heart. Carlos, his younger brother by two years, had been his only sibling who agreed to help him in the search. Both of them believed that their sister was being influenced by something other than sound reasoning. There was no way that she was emotionally healthy if she was choosing to live her current lifestyle. But what was causing her poor decision-making? Was it drugs, as their mother suspected, or was it something even more sinister?

Carlos squeezed the rugged hand that held his own. He had always looked up to Marco, even when they were just kids. Now, his older brother saved lives and property for a living. In the eyes of Carlos Lopez, Marco was truly the most amazing man he knew. Hearing that Marco wouldn't lose respect for him if he bowed out of the search, at least for a little while, was exactly what he needed to hear. He released his grip on the older man's hand, then swiped his eyes, removing the moisture that was pooling in the corners. "Thanks, I love you, man."

"I love you, too. Now, are you going to help me decorate Mama's birthday cake, or just help us eat it?"

"Are you kidding? You know Juanita doesn't even let me in my own kitchen," he snickered. "I'll go help the ladies look after the little ones while we wait for Cristobal and Rafael." He stood up, briefly hugging his older brother, then returning to the front room and out the door. The women were visiting on the front porch while the children played in the front yard. Carlos felt ready to face them, feeling that his personal crisis had been resolved. Now, if only his broken family could be so easily repaired.

E!

Chet lay back on the pillow with his left arm crooked behind his head. Caroline lay sleeping on his chest, his right arm holding her close by his side. He stared at the ceiling, thinking back on how differently this morning had been from what he had expected of his off day. His mind relived their love-making session, his lower anatomy filling with the memories. Slowly, he caressed the soft skin of her arm, smiling at the faint lady-like snoring sounds she made in her sleep. He didn't want to wake her. He knew that taking care of a toddler all day kept her worn out. He was glad to see her resting, especially since she was snuggled up to his chest in their current state of undress.

He thought about the look on her face when he had returned to the bedroom after cleaning himself up after their activities. She had been sitting on the side of the bed with the sheets pulled around her, reaching for her clothing.

"Going somewhere?"

She looked at him with a startled look of disbelief. "Um, n-no. I just thought I'd get dressed since we're, uh, we're done." She hesitated, biting her lower lip in that way that drove him wild. "Are we done?"

He grinned, pulling back the covers and scooting over close enough to caress her bare back, propping himself up on one elbow. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm afraid I'm done. At least for a little while longer." When she bent down for her bra, he reached out holding onto her arm. "Please, Caroline… Please lay back down with me for a few minutes. I-I really need to hold you… Please?"

The sparkle had returned to her eyes when she rolled over and snuggled in closely to his side.

"There… You fit just perfectly right here," he crooned, kissing the top of her head as she lay it down on his shoulder. He pulled her tightly into a hug, pleased when she began running her fingers across his hairy chest. "That was beautiful, Baby. I've never imagined that it could be like this."

"I knew it would be good with you, but… Honestly, it was much more than I was even hoping for. I do love you, Chester B." She felt the stinging in the back of her throat as he used the crook of his finger to lift her chin up and kiss her. When the kiss ended, she smiled and curled into him once again.

"I love you, too. More than you can ever know," he whispered, continuing to caress her soft curls. They remained there, their bodies intertwined for several long moments. Chet felt her body slowly going limp and her breathing evening out. He smiled to himself, thankful that she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms, and that she trusted him enough to remain with him in a vulnerable position. He wouldn't violate that trust. He vowed to hold her as long as she slept, grateful for the time they had shared, and hoping for many more wonderful encounters.

He was brought back from his musings by her soft mewling sound, and a sudden snort which jolted her awake.

She looked around, lost for a moment then hugged him tightly as she became more aware of her surroundings. "Sorry," she groaned, embarrassed by her noisy awakening.

"Sorry for what?" He smiled, hugging her back. "For giving me the best welcome home I've ever had?"

"No," she countered, leaning up on her elbow so she could see directly into his blue eyes. "For falling asleep on you."

"I enjoyed snuggling with you and… And I'm glad you felt comfortable enough with me to fall asleep."

"You make me feel something I've never felt before," she said sincerely.

With a mischievous grin, he smirked back at her. "Yea, so you told me."

"No, not that… Well, okay, yea, that too, but… You make me feel… Safe and protected," she offered, her eyes darting away from his face.

Chet pushed her mussed up hair out of her face, needing to look into her eyes. "Caroline, as long as I have breath in me, I'll lay down my life for you and ladybug," he whispered, raising his head off the pillow and using his lips to seal his profession of love as they once again embarked on another romantic interlude.

E!

Joanne walked in the backdoor of Bloomers, excited and nervous about discussing Johnny's plan with Iris. She kneeled down, placing her purse in the cabinet beneath the work area as she considered how to broach the subject with her employer.

"Hi there."

Joanne's head popped up from behind the cabinet. "Oh, hello, Iris." She stood up, pressing out the wrinkles in her cotton blouse. "I didn't see you standing there."

Iris smiled warmly at Joanne, stifling a giggle at her nervous appearance. She thought she knew what was coming, but forced herself to keep a neutral look on her face. The last thing she wanted to do was to give away the secret that she and Johnny had agreed on.

"Oh, I was just walking a customer out the front door as you were coming in the back," Iris explained.

Joanne looked around the empty florist's shop. "Um, since no one is here right now, do you mind if we talk for a minute?"

"Of course I don't mind. Is there something wrong?" The older woman feigned ignorance as she sat on a stool beside the counter. She knew Joanne was going to suggest that her friend take her job, and Iris was fighting with everything within her to keep the smile off of her face.

"Well, no… Nothing's wrong. I mean, I really enjoy working here and all, but… Well, see… I have this friend," she stammered, finally getting to the subject of the impending conversation. She also took a seat at the work table and began nervously twisting green floral tape around her index finger. "She's… She's a single mom. Her husband was killed in Vietnam. Anyway, she really needs a job and since I was only wanting to work part-time, while the kids were in school, and since you need someone to help more than that...," Joanne was suddenly shocked at the green lump of tape surrounding her finger. Quickly, she began unwinding it, appalled that she had unintentionally wasted the tape out of nervousness. "Um, sorry," she said, eyeing Iris sheepishly. "I was just wondering if, maybe, she could have my job here and then I could keep Corrie for her while she worked?"

Iris cleared her throat, more to prevent the smirk from being firmly planted across her lips. "Ahem… I see… Are you unhappy here?" She chided herself a bit, knowing she was making this conversation even more difficult for the younger woman, but she also needed to appear to be giving the idea some thought.

Joanne nearly choked on her dry tongue when she heard Iris' question. "No, no way. I-I'm very happy here, but… I really feel like my place is at home with Roy and the kids, and I know you need someone to work more hours than I really would like to work." She gritted her teeth, hoping she wasn't sounding ungrateful.

Iris' cocked her head to one side, choosing her words carefully. "Forgive my forwardness, Joanne, but… Has this job caused problems at home?"

Joanne gulped, batting her eyelashes rapidly as her eyes began to sting. "Um, a little… At first, but… But, now everything is going much better and… And I really need to be… No, I want to be at home."

Iris reached out, patting her employee on the shoulder. "Then it sounds like this is a great plan for everyone," she offered, reassuringly. "Why don't you tell your friend to give me a call and we'll arrange a start date for her."

"Oh wow, that's great. Thank you, Iris. Thank you so much. She'll be a really good worker and… And I'll train her myself and…"

"It's okay, Joanne. I don't mind doing that, but if she wants to come in for a couple of hours one day for you to go over things with her, then I can make the deliveries while you do that. She can even bring her daughter with her. She can bring a few toys and play in the back room for a little while so you can show… Uh, what's her name?"

"Caroline."

"Caroline… So you can show Caroline around," Iris explained, glad she hadn't allowed Caroline's name to slip out. Of course, Johnny had given her the details and so she knew about whom Joanne was referring immediately. She pushed a stray lock of graying hair out of her face, smiling at the relief in Joanne's voice and mannerisms.

"Oh, thank you, Iris. Thank you so much for understanding," Joanne said, jumping up from her perch on her stool and rushing to the telephone. "I'm gonna call Roy now, so he can let Chet know, and then I'll…," she hesitated, holding the telephone receiver in her hand as she stared at the rotary dial. Slowly, she turned around and looked at Iris, who was pulling a bucket of greenery out of the cooler. Joanne returned to face the telephone, listening as the dial tone droned in her ears. Something wasn't right. The name she had given Iris for Caroline's child was a name normally associated with males. Her thoughts were spinning wildly in her mind as she slowly dialed her home telephone number. How did Iris Campbell know that Corrie was a girl?

E!

By late afternoon, Mike had finished his laundry, his dishes, and was sitting back with a beer in one hand and a bag of pretzels in the other. His feet were resting on his ottoman and his eyes were glued to his small television set. He was an avid fan of spaghetti westerns and this afternoon's movie was 'Hannie Caulder.'

"Daaammmn, Raquel," he drawled to himself, sipping his beer. "You are one foxy lady." He admired the dark features and shapely body of Raquel Welch as much as any other red-blooded man on earth. He continued to watch the western for a few more minutes until the actress's character was attacked and violated by three bank robbers. His stomach lurched as he thought of Alexia Lopez possibly enduring a similar fate – repeatedly. He knew some of the risks associated with prostitution, having been on several calls where the women were injured by the men paying for their services.

"Damn it," he mumbled, running his hand through his light brown hair as he got up and turned off the television set. He couldn't stomach the scene, nor could he tolerate inaction on his part. He tipped up the bottle of beer, swallowing the last of the yeasty amber liquid, then tossed the empty bottle into the garbage can. He picked up the phone, quickly thumbing through the phone book in search of Mrs. Lopez' number. He had to contact Marco and make arrangements to begin their combined efforts in the search for Alexia Lopez.

E!

The Lopez family was sitting on the front porch, celebrating the birthday of the matriarch of the family. Marco managed to smile as he watched his nieces and nephews messily enjoying the fruits of his labor; the chocolate frosting he had carefully made by hand was smeared on more than one cherubic little face. It was times like this when Marco missed two people so badly it hurt. He had been twenty-one when they had lost Emilio Lopez, his father. He wished the man had lived to see his grandchildren, to know that Marco had followed in his footsteps as a fireman, deciding to apply to the academy as a result of his father's death. The older Firefighter Lopez had been killed in an automobile accident, seemingly having fallen asleep after battling a wildfire in the northern part of the state. Alexia Lopez had only been a little girl at the time. He could still see her, hair in a long dark braid, big dark eyes melting with tears as he told her that Papa was never coming home again. Something innocent inside her was lost that morning, and as she grew older, she grew more and more defiant. Now, he feared he may have lost her forever.

"MARCO!"

"Wha-huh?" Marco's head jerked up in the direction of the shout. He locked eyes with his youngest brother, Rafael. Both men knew what he had been thinking.

"Telephone," the young man called out from the opened front door.

"Oh," he mumbled, setting his half-eaten cake on the plant stand beside him. He stood up, walking briskly past his sibling, and picked up the telephone receiver resting beside the cradle of the phone on the small table in the foyer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, man, did I catch you at a bad time?" Mike knew that today was Mrs. Lopez' birthday, and he hoped he wasn't interrupting the celebration.

"No, we're done. Just finished eating Mama's cake. So, is something wrong?"

Mike pressed his lips tightly together. Of course something was wrong. Marco's sister was out walking the streets, selling herself for a few dollars and endangering her life in the process. He swallowed back the bile that seemed to be steadily creeping up the back of his throat. "Uh, well, I… I was wondering if… Do you want to get together tonight and go looking for her?"

Marco crossed an arm over his chest, pinning his fingers within the opposite armpit. He quickly turned his back to the open front door, not wanting anyone else in his family to overhear the conversation. "Stoker, are you sure you want to get involved in this? It's a very dark underworld that you've only seen a glimpse of on the job."

The engineer's mind replayed the images of Raquel Welch's character being assaulted. If anything similar was happening to Alexia Lopez, even if money was being exchanged, then he definitely wanted to get involved. "Yea… I do, and I know what I'm getting into. Just… Just let me help you, okay?"

A whirlpool of emotions were swirling together in Marco's mind; gratefulness that he had a friend like Mike Stoker; dread for what he would be introducing his coworker to, out on the seedy streets; relief that he would have someone he trusted to share his burden, now that Carlos wasn't going to be helping anymore; and, shame at the life his sister was living, even if her decisions were not her own as his mother believed. He swallowed hard, pushing the lump in his throat back down in order to speak again. "Okay, um, I'll come over to your place in a couple of hours. We need to discuss a few things before we start. And Mike?"

"Yea?"

"Thank y-you." Marco never stumbled over his words, but his friend was offering a gift that he never thought he would receive, never thought he would allow someone else to give. He was offering to help find Alexia Lopez and hopefully bring her home. His emotions had been very near the surface for the last few weeks, and now they were threatening to break loose, again. He couldn't finish expressing his gratitude, but the two simple words he had speaken had been received loud and clear by the man on the other end of the line.

"You're welcome, amigo," Mike spoke up, hearing the soft sniffle on the other end of the line.

"Ahem," Marco cleared his throat. "I'll, uh… I'll see you in a while."

"I'll be here. Bye."

Mike hung up the phone and blew out his breath. He had no idea what he had just gotten himself into, but a brother needed his help, and he was more than willing to give it to him. He just hoped that their combined efforts wouldn't be in vain.


	6. Chapter 6

Warning: strong language

Chapter 6

Chet nearly stumbled into his apartment, trying to rush to the ringing telephone. He had spent most of the day with Caroline and now needed to shower and shave before he took her out for dinner and a movie. Assuming that she had forgotten to tell him something before he left her apartment just a minute before, he snickered as he picked up the receiver.

"Miss me already, Babe?"

On the other end of the line, Roy's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Yes, darling. It's been a very long eight hours since I saw you at the station."

Chet rolled his eyes, wishing he could somehow take back the words. "Ugh, DeSoto. I, um… I thought you were Caroline callin' me."

"No, but I'm assuming that you've been in the company of Caroline and Corrie which explains why I haven't been able to get you on the phone all day," Roy admonished, smiling into the phone. It was great to know that Chet seemed to have finally found happiness.

Chet leaned against the wall in his kitchen, a satiated smile warming his face. "Actually, Corrie's with her grandparents for a couple o' days so it's just been Caroline and me." Chet didn't want to say any more than that. He had too much respect for Caroline.

Roy understood the unspoken message, and a hint of a blush crossed his pale round face. "Ohhh…. Um, I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I wanted to let you know that Iris agreed to the plan. Caroline can start at Bloomers on Monday and Jo will keep Corrie. That is, if Caroline agreed to the arrangement."

Chet wanted to jump up and down in his apartment, but didn't want to perturb his downstairs neighbor. "Oh, man. Roy, that's great news. Yes… Yes, she loved the idea. I can't wait to tell her that it's all worked out."

"Good, Joanne will call her with the details tomorrow. I don't want to keep you from your, uh…activities," he said laughing.

"Yea, um…," Chet couldn't think of an appropriate response. Any other time, he would have been the first one to make some snide sexual remark, but that was before Caroline came into his life. Now, he saw the world in a completely different way. "I'll see ya at the station. Oh, and thanks again, Roy."

"No problem, I like the plan, too, you know." Roy hung up the phone turning around and grinning at his wife.

"Roy DeSoto, are you blushing?"

"Yea, maybe," he said in a hushed tone as he sauntered over to Joanne. He smiled wickedly as he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. "Chet and Caroline have been together all day – unsupervised by a certain toddler," he whispered into her ear.

Joanne smiled wrapping her arms around his neck and purring to him in response. "Mmmm, that sounds like fun."

"Mommie, I'm thir… Ewww, that's gross!" Jennifer remarked as her parents' kiss halted her in her tracks. "Don't you guys ever do anything besides kiss anymore?"

Roy snickered as he released Joanne from his embrace. He was eternally grateful that their marriage had not only survived their recent difficulties, but now their physical relationship seemed more satisfying than ever. Their eyes met briefly and he knew she was giving him a 'don't you dare' warning. He smiled at her again as he spun around. "Yes, as a matter of fact, we do sometimes do other things besides kiss, but…"

"ROY!" Joanne's voice rose in desperation. "Sweetie, weren't you saying that you were thirsty? Here, let me get you some Kool-Aid in your favorite cup and then you can go outside on the deck and play with Chris, or maybe you'd like to swing…" Joanne continued to ramble as she attempted to distract both her husband and her daughter. She quickly poured the little girl a cup of the orange liquid then snapped the lid on the cup and stuck a straw in it. "Okay, hurry along now. I'll have dinner ready soon," she called out, rushing the child out the door.

"Did I say something wrong?" Roy questioned, leaning against the kitchen cabinet, arms folded over his chest giving his wife his best James Dean look. "I wasn't gonna tell her."

Joanne glared at him, then giggled at his feigned innocence. "You're so bad," she said, laughing.

"Awww, I thought you said I was good," he remarked, moving towards her seductively.

"Later, Roy… I promise… And we'll do… more than… kiss," Joanne mumbled between loud smacking quick pecks on his lips. "Now, scoot! I need to finish cooking our dinner."

E!

By nightfall, the Lopez family had finished the birthday celebration, and everyone had gone back to their respective homes and lives. As Maria began running Antonio's bath water, she saw her eldest child standing in the bathroom doorway. Seeing how he was dressed, she knew where he was going.

Marco smoothed his hair away from his face then donned his red baseball cap. His denim shirt had the sleeves cut out leaving his tanned and defined arm muscles exposed. He gave his mother a knowing look before he spoke. "Don't wait up for me, Mama. I'll be late again."

Maria sat her plump bottom on the edge of the tub, waiting for her grandson to finish getting undressed. "I hope tonight is the night," she said cryptically, not wanting her grandson to ask any questions.

"Me too. I love you, Mama," Marco offered stepping away from the door.

Before Maria could return the sentiment, Antonio spoke up. "G'night, Meeko."

"Good night, Ant," Marco called out as he walked down the hallway. "Be a good boy."

"Okay."

Marco was about to open the front door when he heard his young nephew gleefully splash into the bath tub. Again, his heart broke for everything his sister was missing in the life of her son. Maria had always taught her children that some of the best memories in life come from the mundane tasks of daily living. This was one of those times when Alexia should be making just such a memory with her son, instead of making money selling her body.

E!

Mike glanced at his watch and wondered when Marco would arrive. He had already showered and dressed in jeans and a striped button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up onto his forearms. He pulled a soda from his refrigerator and was heading back to his recliner to watch the rest of 'All in the Family' when he heard a knock on his front door. He nearly gave an audible gasp when he opened the door and saw his friend standing on the other side, looking almost unrecognizable.

Marco took one quick glance at Mike and couldn't stifle the smirk. "Are you going out with me, or are you heading to church?"

"What do you mean?" Mike asked, stepping aside to allow his friend to enter.

"You can't wear that to a truck stop. You'll never blend in with the others. We've got to look like we belong, or they'll think we're cops."

Mike took in the faded and grease-stained jeans, work boots, and ragged denim shirt that Marco was wearing. He tried to remember if he had ever seen his friend wearing a baseball cap before. "Um, yea, okay… Lemme see what I've got," Mike said, heading back down the hallway. "Make yourself at home," he called back over his shoulder.

Marco blew his cheeks out in a huff as he seated himself on the sofa. He adjusted the cap on his head, realizing that getting Mike to understand the culture his sister was a part of wasn't going to be easy. He stared at the nearly empty peppermint candy dish on the pristine coffee table of his engineer. The longer he stared, the more alone he felt, just like the single piece of candy in the bottom of the dish. Now that Carlos was no longer helping him out, he wondered if there was any chance of finding his baby sister. He wondered if Mike would be able to handle what they were about to do. Even though Marco had never received any sexual services during his nights out, he always felt guilty when he picked up a woman from one of these places. Somehow, he felt as if he were contributing to her destructive lifestyle, even if he was only exchanging money for information.

In his bedroom, Mike sorted through his dirty laundry in search of something more suitable for the night ahead of him. He pulled out a pair of dirty blue jeans he had worn when he changed the oil in his truck. Even though they weren't stained, they were somewhat dirty because he had been lying on the ground beneath his truck for thirty minutes while he completed the task. The jeans had been in his hamper for a couple of days getting wrinkled. He then went to his closet and removed a faded navy t-shirt. There were tiny holes near the hem line of the garment which most beer drinkers would recognize as being caused by using his shirt to twist off the caps from beer bottles. He removed his clean garments, hanging them back up, before donning his old clothing. He exchanged his brown loafer-style shoes for a pair of old hiking boots. Even though it went against his nature, he forced himself to let his shirt hang out of his pants instead of tucking it in. Turning off his bedroom light, he returned to the living room to join his lineman.

"Okay… Is this better?"

Marco looked his friend over with a quick glance. "Very nice. Now that we have you looking the part, all that's left is to make others believe that you're looking for a little company."

"Company?" Mike questioned.

"That's what you'll be asked, if you're approached by one of the girls. I mean, they can't just ask you outright if you're looking for sex; you might be a cop." Marco realized that he needed to talk fast if he was going to educate his friend on the seedy lifestyle of prostitutes. "These girls could be arrested for prostitution if they mistakenly proposition a law enforcement officer." He looked back at Mike for a long moment, as if contemplating his next phrase very carefully.

"What is it?" Mike asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I need to show you something," Marco said, reaching inside his shirt pocket.

Mike accepted the two pictures his friend handed him. "Is this her?"

"Yes, but those pictures were taken when she was fourteen. She'll look older now." Marco reached for the door knob. "Ready?"

"You bet," Mike replied, turning off the lights in his apartment as the two men headed out the door.

Half an hour later they were in a pick-up truck Marco borrowed from his brother, riding along in companionable silence. Mike needed some time to process what his friend had told him, knowing that there was much more he didn't know. He stared again at the two pictures of Alexia that Marco had given him. The pictures showed a smiling young teenaged girl. Mike just hoped that if he saw her, he would recognize her from these photographs, knowing that she probably looked much different than she did back then.

Marco passed a pack of Marlboro cigarettes to Mike as they approached the on-ramp and headed north on the 405.

Mike drew his eyebrows into a point of confusion. "When did you pick up the habit?"

Marco gripped the amber colored butt between his lips, driving with one hand and lighting up with the other. He pulled enough air through the filter to light up the cigarette then quickly removed it from his mouth, holding it between his fingers. He needed their clothing to be permeated with the strong scent of cigarette smoke.

"I haven't; it's part of my cover," Marco responded, placing the smoldering cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, the smoke spiraling up and filling the cab of the truck.

Mike snickered, unable to control himself. "Cover? Are you playing Officer Reed or Officer Malloy?"

The older man cut his eyes at his friend, never saying a word.

Mike pulled a cigarette out of the pack, then tossed it back over to his lineman. "Sorry, man. I didn't mean to insult you." He flicked the lighter, puffing on his cigarette until the end glowed orange. He leaned his head back, removing the cigarette and blowing the smoke into the cab. He quickly began rolling down the window to allow some of it to escape.

"No, don't," Marco stopped him.

"Why? Don't you eat enough smoke on the job?" Mike questioned. He held up his hand, not waiting for a response. "I know… I know… It's part of your cover, right?"

"Yes, we need to smell like it," the older man responded.

"Between the smoke and these pants that have been in my dirty clothes hamper for the last few days… I stink," Mike offered, his smile peeking through.

"Doesn't matter what you smell like; it all smells like money to the girls."

Not too far ahead, Marco saw the lights of the truck stop. This was the one his informant, Sabrina, seemed to frequent the most. He only had a short amount of time to relay his plan to his friend. "Listen, if you want to back out now, then I'll understand. But if we do this, then we've got to make it believable."

Mike gave his cigarette another drag. It had been a long time since he had smoked and in some small way, it helped him get psyched up for what they were about to begin. "No… No, I'm not backing out. Just tell me what to do, okay?"

Marco turned on his blinker then made the turn into the large parking lot. "Thanks, Stoker. I owe you."

"If I ever need your help, I know you won't let me down, and I'm not gonna let you down now," Mike spoke prophetically, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray.

He looked at the rows and rows of big trucks. Some had trailers, some didn't. Several of the newer models had sleeping quarters, the older ones didn't. Many were shiny and new, while others were dented and faded. Each one represented a working man, most of them on long hauls far away from wives or girlfriends.

Carefully, Mike began to look in the shadows just like Marco had taught him. It wasn't until they rode through the third row that he caught a glimpse of a young scantily clad girl. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a pony tail at the back of her head. She wore large hoop earrings, a denim short skirt with a tight white blouse unbuttoned low enough to reveal her cleavage. It was obvious that she wore no bra. She carried a tiny brown handbag with fringe along the bottom. The strap was thin and long enough for her to cross it over her body so that the purse rested on her hip. Her platform sandals made her hips swish as she walked between the trucks.

Marco saw Mike's eyes bulging out of his head as he strained his neck to get a better look at the girl. "Yes, she's one of them."

Mike cleared his throat, coughing into his closed fist as they pulled into a parking spot near the diner. He needed to settle his nerves a little. This was something he knew existed, but he had never faced it the way he was about to. As he looked around, catching glimpses of other young women climbing into the cabs of the trucks, he hoped he would never need to understand it as well as his lineman. Marco's voice pulled him back to the smoky cab of the truck.

"Hungry?"

"A little," Mike responded hesitantly, not liking the looks of the place.

"Dinner's on me… Beer too," Marco announced, as he opened the creaky door of the truck. "If she's here tonight, she'll know where to find me."

"Alexia?"

"No, Sabrina. I need to find out if she's heard anything new on Lexi. Then… If we can just make contact with her… Then maybe we can convince her to come home."

The two friends left the smoky cab of Marco's pick-up truck, and entered the even smokier dining area of the truck stop. The buzzing noise of dozens of truck drivers talking floated along with the haze in the large room. Music could be heard from the far corner, along with the occasional raised voices exchanging curses. No one seemed to notice when they entered, which worked to their advantage. The two slipped into a vacant booth waiting for a waitress. There was still a lot that Marco needed to share with Mike, and his mother's sense of urgency was beginning to take root in his own heart, telling him that time was running out for Alexia.

E!

Alexia hated leaving her friend alone when she was so upset, but she needed to make some money, enough for them both. She sat down on the edge of the twin bed, feeling the forehead of her roommate, Brianna.

"I think your fever's back," she announced, reaching for the bottle of aspirin on the small bedside table. "Can you sit up a little?"

"Just go… Please? Don't worry 'bout me," the depressed woman said, curling onto her side, away from Alexia.

Alexia cast a glance down at Brianna's pale hand as the young woman pulled the thread-bare blanket up around her neck. She saw the small Pinocchio tattoo along Brianna's thin forearm. She hated it and all that it represented to them both. She looked at her own matching tattoo and began rubbing it as if it physically hurt her. It was a symbol for them, a constant reminder that their life was no longer theirs. They belonged to him, and neither one was able to make a move without his approval. They were merely marionettes, puppets on a string, and neither felt any more alive than the wooden toy depicted on their forearms.

"I won't leave unless you at least take a couple of aspirin. Or, I can call the fire department and…"

"Damn, Lex," the young woman interrupted, rolling over and pushing herself up slightly. "I don't need a nurse."

"I'm not trying to be a nurse, Bri. I'm just trying to help you, alright?"

Brianna accepted the aspirin, taking a sip of the warm flat soda that was sitting on the table beside her. Once she swallowed them, she looked back up at her roommate. "If you really want to help me then you'll leave me alone. I need the good stuff, not a fucking aspirin." She immediately regretted her harsh words. Her hormones were still fluctuating from the loss of her pregnancy. She saw the pain in her friend's face as the other woman stood up to leave. "Wait… Lex?"

"What?" Alexia responded, keeping her back to Brianna. She didn't want her friend to know that her feelings were hurt.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just…. I just wanted to hold m-my ba-by…," the woman broke down, uncontrollable sobs racking her body.

Quickly, Alexia returned to Brianna's side. "I know," she said, wrapping her arms around her crying friend. "What he did was horrible, Bri. I know you're hurting now. I know… I-I miss my little boy, too."

Muffled sniffling sounds came from the other woman. "Yea… But, h-he's alive, Lex. You k-kept him alive," Brianna hiccupped. "M-maybe you c-can see him ag-gain some day. I ne-ever even got to s-see mine."

Alexia sat rocking the crying woman in her arms for several long minutes. She brushed Brianna's dark mussed up hair as she thought back to her own loss. She had shed enough tears to float a cruise ship in the last four years. If she could have anything in the world, it would be to spend just one carefree happy day with her little boy, the child she abandoned. At least she hadn't been beaten into a miscarriage, and then left to burn to death like Brianna. Alexia swiped at her eyes, forcing back the tears that threatened to run down her face, ruining the heavy make-up she had just applied. She sat stiffly, refusing to allow his actions to make her cower in fear or cry any more. She had realized long ago that her only purpose in life now was to protect her family – protect them from the demons she had unknowingly brought into their lives when she was just an innocent young teenager. Now, she looked and felt much older than her nineteen years. There was no planning for tomorrow for her. No safety to be found in the protective shadow of her older brothers. No warm embrace from her mother's arms. And they would never know just how much they meant to her. Since the night she left her newborn son on the doorstep of her childhood home, she no longer believed in a 'happily ever after' ending to her life's story. Steeling her nerves, she prepared to go out into the night, to do what she had to do in order to survive… And to ensure the safety of those she loved more than anything else on earth.

E!

By two o'clock the following morning, Marco and Mike had both turned down a couple of offers for company as they continued to sit and talk inside the truck stop. Marco stubbed out another cigarette, adding the butt to the pile growing in the ashtray on the table. He glanced at his watch then looked over at his tired friend. Over the last few hours, Marco had explained everything he knew about the sordid world of prostitution to his friend. He had used their location as a stage, wanting Mike to see for himself what Marco was explaining. Marco had also hoped that Sabrina might be working in the area, and if she was, he hoped she had more information for him. As the hours ticked by, Marco realized that Sabrina was not working the truck stop. He and Mike only had one more day off before they had to be back on duty. He didn't want his obsession with finding Alexia to cause them to be too tired to work safely on their next shift. He pushed his coffee cup to the side, reaching for his wallet.

"Are you ready to go? I don't think she's here tonight."

Before Mike had a chance to answer, another scantily clad woman slipped into the booth, taking a seat beside Marco.

"How ya doin'?" The woman asked, removing her gum and adding it to the pile of cigarette butts in the ashtray.

"Tired. I was beginning to think you weren't here tonight," he said, seeing Mike shifting nervously in his seat. "Mike, this is Sabrina," he said by way of introduction.

"Nice to meet you," Mike responded, nodding his head at the woman.

"Likewise," she returned, her eyes darting out the window beside the booth. As always, she knew she was being watched.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Sabrina cleared her throat. She needed to tell Marco the news that she knew he wasn't going to want to hear, but she couldn't do it in the diner. The eyes that were watching her wanted her making money, not chatting with a couple of men in a booth.

"Um, let's go somewhere else, okay?"

Marco looked at Sabrina, understanding what she meant. "Sure, come on, Stoker," he requested, dropping a few bills on the table to cover the cost of their meal.

Mike slid out of the booth, feeling as if everyone in the place was staring at him. He wanted to hold his hands up and scream that he and Marco were not involved in a ménage à trois, but lowered his face and rushed out the door instead.

Marco held open the door of the pick-up truck allowing Sabrina to climb inside. He took his place in the driver's seat then waited for Mike to join them before backing out of the parking spot.

"Where should we go?"

Sabrina looked around, picking out the most dimly lit spot on the premises. "Over there, on the other side of that sign."

Marco maneuvered the pick-up behind the large flashing sign and turned off the engine. The shadows would allow them the privacy they needed. He looked over at Sabrina, seeing Mike fidgeting nervously on the other side of her. He remembered how he felt the first time she had gotten inside his vehicle. Knowing how Mike felt, he spoke up trying to relax the man.

"Take it easy, Stoker. We haven't done anything wrong," he said, reaching into his back pocket to remove his wallet. He knew that for Sabrina, time was money. He reached inside his wallet and pulled out twenty dollars.

"I know… I'm good…," Mike lied, his voice nearly squeaking as he slid a little closer to the door, and away from Sabrina.

Sabrina accepted the money, placing it in her tiny purse. She inhaled deeply, blowing out her breath before she began. "Look, I gotta tell ya. I talked to her."

"Lexi?"

"Yea, and Marco… I hate to be the one to tell ya this, but…,"

Marco's heart skipped a beat. Was his baby sister hurt? Drug addicted? Or worst of all, was she dead? "B-but what? Just say it."

"Honey… I told her that I knew ya. And I mentioned that you were lookin' for her. But…." And again, she hesitated; something that was driving Marco crazy with fear.

"Marco… Your sister jus' don't wanna be found."

E!

A/N: Thanks so much for all the encouragement. I appreciate everyone who is following this saga, and especially those of you who have shared your thoughts with me. I do realize that this story has taken us away from the station for several chapters now, but we'll get back to it in chapter 7.


	7. Chapter 7

Warning: strong language

Chapter 7

Marco and Mike made the long trip back in relative silence. Marco's mind was still reeling from Sabrina's words and Mike had no idea what to say to comfort him. Finally, as he pulled to a stop outside Mike's apartment, Marco reached out to shake hands with his long-time friend.

"Sorry I kept you up late for nothing, Stoker. I, uh, I appreciate your help."

Mike released his grip on his lineman's hand. "It wasn't for nothing. Don't give up, Marco. She's your baby sister… Don't ever give up," he said, reaching for the door handle.

Marco nodded his head then looked away, clearing his throat. He didn't want Mike to see his teary eyes. "Ahem… See you next shift," he offered, shifting the pick-up truck into reverse just as Mike closed the door.

E!

Mike toed off his shoes near his front door then began stripping as he headed down the hallway. Remembering the pictures Marco had given him, he removed them from his shirt pocket, tossing them onto his dresser then removed the remainder of his clothing. He needed a shower to remove the stench of the cigarette smoke. He turned on the water in his shower, waiting for it to warm up. Once he saw the steam rising above the curtain, he stepped inside and began lathering up. Removing all traces of the stench made him feel much better. One thing the soap and water couldn't remove, however, was the memory of what he had witnessed at the truck stop and the girls he had seen moving from truck to truck. Thankfully, many of the truckers had turned them down. However, too many times the passenger door was opened and a girl climbed inside. He couldn't imagine what was going through the minds of the men who were participating in the illegal activity. It was obvious to him that most of the girls were under age, making the men guilty of a multitude of illegal activities. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't figure out how they were able to pay for these services and then head back onto the road as if the transaction had been nothing more than the purchase of a cup of coffee.

He reached out, turning the water off and reaching for his towel. As he scrubbed his hair dry, he was overwhelmed with gratitude mixed with anger. He was grateful that he didn't understand how the truckers were able to do it, and angry for what those men were doing to the young ladies working the parking lot. Because, if he was able to understand it, then he felt as if he would have lost his humanity. For his own sanity, he needed to stay angry because that was keeping him human.

He wrapped the damp towel around his waist and walked back into his bedroom. He needed to get at least a couple of hours of sleep. As he opened up the drawers on his dresser to remove a tee shirt and boxers, he looked at the smiling face of Alexia Lopez one more time. He inhaled deeply, touching the photo lightly with his fingertips. "We will find you, Alexia. Whether you want to be found or not. We will find you."

E!

Even though he was exhausted, Marco wasn't ready to head back to his mother's house. Instead, he drove around aimlessly for a long time, somehow ending up in Santa Monica just before dawn. He parked near the pier, then walked towards the beach. As he crossed the sidewalk, he paused near a park bench long enough to remove his boots and socks. He needed to feel something familiar and hoped that walking across the course sand would help ground him. The beach felt, sounded, and smelled the same as it always had, even if the rest of his world had changed. He listened to the waves crashing in the shadows, the steady rhythm normally acting as a balm for his wounded heart, but not tonight. He thought back to his childhood, the laughter of his baby sister echoing through his mind above the roar of the surf. Tentatively, he took a few steps forward onto the wet sand just out of the reach of the tendrils of the water lapping hungrily at his feet as he stood beside the looming pier. He looked out over the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, feeling as small and insignificant as the grains of sand on which he stood. He felt like a failure. He had tried so hard to find her, searching for years, only to hear the words that continued to stab him over and over in his heart and soul. '_Your_ _sister don't wanna be found_.'

He faced the breeze, the cool air blowing his hair away from his face. The slight roar of the wind blowing across his ears felt as if it carried Sabrina's words on it. Again, and again, and again he heard the phrase echoing. _'Your sister don't wanna be found. Your sister don't wanna be found_.' He swiped the moisture from the inside corners of his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. As the daylight began to cast a faint glow across the pre-dawn sky, he wondered if perhaps it was time to let it all go, to give up on reuniting his family. Was it time to do as Cristobal had done, consider her gone forever? He shoved his hands deeply into his pockets, realizing that he had been mourning her loss for years, and yet, she wasn't actually dead, not yet anyway. Therefore, he couldn't grieve and move on the way he did after his father had died. It was as if he had buried someone who might be resurrected at any time. That left the wound in his heart open and bleeding. Now, maybe it was time to bury her for good so his own healing could begin. He looked across the undulating waves, their white caps shimmering in the glow of the street lights. He imagined seeing the ghost of a dark-haired teenaged girl walking across the sand, into the water, and continuing until she disappeared into the murky depths, swallowed up by the unseen forces beneath the waves.

He inhaled one last deep salty breath of ocean breeze, then turned to trudge through the thick sand on his way back to the borrowed pick-up truck. In those moments, alone on the beach, he decided to let go of the ghost of a sister who didn't want to be a part of the Lopez family any longer. He hoped that the act of symbolically releasing her would somehow free himself up to be the son, brother, and uncle the rest of his family needed him to be. That is, if he had in fact been able to truly let her go.

As he backed out of the parking space, he turned his head to the right. There, walking slowly up the street, was a dark-haired young woman, and once again his heart felt crushed. Although the young lady was not Alexia, the resemblance was there. He drove slowly past her, noting the blank expression on her face, and he knew in the deepest caverns of his soul, he had not truly released his sister's spirit. She was still taking up residence inside his heart. His mission would continue.

E!

Mike arrived at work a little earlier than usual, hoping that his senior lineman might make an early appearance, too. He wanted to have a few minutes alone with Marco, just to make sure the older man was doing okay after the news he had received from his informant. Mike didn't find Marco, but he did find the C-shift in the kitchen, groggily downing their morning coffee.

"Morning," he offered, finding the coffee pot nearly empty. "Tough shift?"

"I'll say," Paul, the C-shift engineer, piped up. "If you don't mind, I'd like to head on out," he said, yawning. "My head hasn't hit the pillow in over 26 hours."

Mike released a slow whistle as he rinsed out the pot. "Yea, man. Take off." He reached into the cabinet, busying himself with the task of preparing more coffee while the rest of the crew grumbled about the warehouse fire and seven-car pile-up that had kept them out all night.

Twenty minutes later, Roy was in the locker room changing from his street clothes into his department blues, when his partner rushed through the door. The two began talking about their days off with Roy sharing his excitement about Johnny's plan for Caroline and Joanne. Suddenly, Chet pushed through the locker room door. He seemed to be in a world of his own, whistling a peppy tune with a goofy grin on his face.

"Mornin' fellas," the Irishman offered, then immediately returned to the same song he had been whistling when he waltzed in.

Johnny's dark eyes tracked Chet's path, while his jaw dropped open. He looked back at his own partner only to find him with a smug grin on his face as he opened his locker door to retrieve his uniform. Johnny finished unbuttoning his plaid shirt, leaving it hanging loosely along his naked thin torso as his head swished back and forth between the two other men. Suddenly, his lopsided grin began to tug at the left corner of his mouth. Slowly, he sidestepped his locker, cocking one eyebrow while watching to see if Chet or Roy might be eyeing his movements. When he realized they weren't watching, he carefully leaned sideways, opening his locker just a bit. When no water bomb sprang out, he pulled the door open wider. Still nothing happened.

"Huh?"

"Did you say something, Gage?" Chet asked, buttoning up his own light blue shirt and tucking it into his navy pants.

"Uh, no… No, I didn't say anything," Johnny called out, tapping Roy on the shoulder. He quickly jerked his thumb in the direction of the whistling man. "What's up with him?" He whispered.

Roy smiled broadly. "What do you think?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say the Phantom set me up. But, I already checked my locker and it's clean."

"Maybe he's just happy that your plan was accepted by everyone," Roy chided. He knew why Chet was in a better frame of mind, but it wasn't his place to discuss the young lineman's love life.

Johnny narrowed his eyes at his partner, knowing there was something Roy knew that he wasn't telling Johnny. "Wait a minute… What's goin' on?"

Roy closed his locker door, taking a seat on the bench to put on his work shoes. "Listen to what he's whistling."

The two men were silent for a moment, as they listened to the tune Chet continued to whistle as he walked past them heading out the locker room door. The last few notes faded into the apparatus bay, as understanding dawned on Johnny's expressive face. "I don't believe it. They did it, didn't they?"

"I can't think of anything else that would make him whistle like that, can you?" Roy asked, slapping his partner on the shoulder as he pulled open the door.

"Ohhh, this is gonna be goooood," Johnny said rubbing his hands together, his brain already scheming. As he walked into the kitchen, he saw Chet pouring himself a cup of coffee, humming now, instead of whistling. Johnny couldn't resist the temptation. As soon as Chet's humming reached the chorus, Johnny sang out.

"Sweeeet, Caroline… Good times never seemed so good," he sang off key.

"IIIII've been inclined…" Roy joined in.

"Oh, knock it off, fellas!" Chet nearly shouted, his cheeks turning a glowing shade of crimson.

"I think somebody had a good time on his off days, right Kelly?" Johnny asked, laying his arm loosely along Chet's shoulder.

"As a matter of fact, I did. And you can't screw it up, so don't even try."

Johnny snickered. "I don't wanna screw it up. I just wanna know how you finally talked her into it."

"Shut up, Gage," Chet warned. Caroline wasn't like any other woman he had ever dated, and he wanted nothing more than to protect her reputation from the sordid comments Johnny was known to dish out on occasion.

"All of you twits shut up for a minute, will ya?" Hank broke in, sticking his head in the kitchen doorway. "Roll call in two. Anybody seen Lopez?"

"Here," came an echo from across the bay. Marco was walking out of the locker room with shadows looming beneath his eyes as he walked across the apparatus bay tucking his shirt tail into his pants. "I'm here." More than anything, Marco wanted a cup of coffee to prepare himself for the shift. He hadn't slept well the previous night and none at all the night before when he and Mike went out looking for his sister. Yet, he had heard his captain ordering roll call in two minutes. His wake-up coffee would have to wait. He stopped just outside the kitchen door, taking his place in the line-up knowing the others would soon follow.

One by one the men of 'A' shift filed out the door of the kitchen and took their positions in the line-up. The seasoned captain eyed his men suspiciously. Chet had a cheesy grin on his face. Hank wondered for a moment if perhaps the young man had come to work stoned, but he knew Chet well enough to know that wasn't the case. His eyes then made their way to his two paramedics. They were behaving like a couple of devious school boys who had tied the teacher's shoe to her desk and were waiting for her to try to walk away. They were fighting hard to keep their grins in check so as not to draw any more attention to themselves. Then, his eyes fell on his engineer and his senior linemen. Neither looked especially well-rested, and both appeared to be thinking about something other than their jobs.

"Okay, men… We've got a group of boy scouts coming by for a tour around four o'clock this afternoon. Roy, they'll be your responsibility."

"Yes, sir," Roy groaned. He knew that he was the logical choice, having a son about their age, but sometimes he wished his crew mates could share in the agony of the endless questions from overly anxious boys.

"Thanks, Roy. Now, let's make sure this place is clean and ready for them. Lopez, latrines. Gage, dorms. DeSoto, apparatus bay. Stoker, dayroom. And Kelly, kitchen."

A multitude of groans were elicited by the men as Chet's name was called out for cooking their meals.

"Hey… I'm not that bad!"

"It's okay, Chet. Roy and I will swing by Rampart for a stomach pump after our first run," Johnny joked.

"Oh, ha-ha," the Irishman shot back.

Hank ran a hand through his hair, interrupting the verbal sparring from his men. "Alright, listen up. There's one more thing." He reached to the top of his clipboard, removing a piece of white paper and passing it to Johnny at the end of the line. "Take a good look, men. This is Julia Hubbard. She's 13 years old and was last seen walking home from school on Friday. She hasn't been seen since. Both her home and school are within our district so keep your eyes open. The police aren't sure if she ran away or was abducted."

Marco gritted his teeth together, flexing his jaw muscles. He listened as various comments were made as the men passed the picture down the line. Chet noticed that the girl looked like an older version of Corrie, and that thought sent a shiver down his spine as he considered what the missing girl may be going through, if she was still alive. He handed the paper to Marco, startled when the older man grasped the paper, barely glancing at it before passing it quickly to Mike.

"That was quick, Marco," Chet said, a bit sarcastically.

Marco knew he should have taken a closer look, but he also knew that the face he would see on the poster was not that of Julia Hubbard. He remembered how his family had been treated when they went to the police station after his sister ran away from home. The officer who took the report had been polite, but Marco and his mother had left with a heavy foreboding in their hearts.

"Don't need to look closer. She's probably white with blonde hair," Marco answered, staring straight ahead. He didn't notice Hank's eyes glaring at him.

Chet drew his eyebrows together. "What? You got something against blondes?" Chet continued his ridicule of his partner.

"No… I just don't think they deserve special treatment because of the color of their hair… or skin."

"Lopez," Captain Stanley warned.

"Sorry, Cap, but it's true. Chicano girls go missing and nobody sends out posters or asks us to be on the lookout for them."

"Now wait just a minute," Roy piped up. "Every child matters… Every person matters, so don't…"

"He's right," Johnny interrupted, making eye contact with Marco, offering the older man his support. His memory suddenly taking him back to his teenage years, and shocking scenes that he would never be able to remove from his mind no matter how hard he tried. "I know it's the 70's and we're s'posed to be beyond all that, but it still happens… It happens a lot. Not everyone gets treated the same way."

Johnny and Marco seemed to join forces while Chet and Roy felt the need to defend their positions.

"Not here, man," Chet retorted, pointing at the floor. "No way! That's bullshit, and Marco and Johnny, you both know it."

"Drop it, Chet. Let it go," Mike suggested.

"Whose side are you on, Mike?" Chet questioned. "We're gettin' accused of bigotry or somethin'," Chet shouted, waving his arms frantically.

"I'm just saying that you don't know all the details, so…," Mike's statement was cut short by Marco and Roy raising their voices at each other.

"If she had tanned skin, then everybody would just assume she was another wetback and barely give her a second thought," Marco said, pointing a finger at Roy's chest.

"She's a kid who might be in danger and I for one don't give a damn if she has purple skin with green freckles," Roy shot back. "Don't accuse me of giving priority to victims because of the color of their skin!"

"Nobody's accusin' you of anything, Roy. We're just sayin' that things are different for minorities," Johnny spoke up, waving a hand between himself and Marco, "than it is for whites," he concluded, waving his hand towards Chet and Roy. "Not sayin' either of you are guilty… Just makin' a statement, that's all."

"Yea, well I think that's a crock of sh…"

"Can it, Kelly!" Hank shouted. "That's enough from…"

"Oh, you do, huh? If you could walk a mile in my moccasins, then you…," Johnny continued, ignoring his captain's orders.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, knock it off, Gage," Chet shot back. "That shit's been…"

The shouts and swearing grew louder, overtaking Hank's orders for silence and to resume the line-up. When his commands were ignored, he loped over to the engine, quickly opened the door, pulled himself up into the engineer's seat, and blew the air horn.

"Augh, damn it!" Chet shouted, covering his ears with his hands, no longer able to hear the words Johnny was yelling at him.

As the sound of the air horn blowing inside the closed apparatus bay silenced the men, Hank narrowed his eyes at his crew. Through clenched jaw muscles he spat out his command. "I don't know what the hell is going on here, but I'll be damned if I'm going to allow such behavior on MY watch!" He placed both hands on his hips as if daring anyone to speak. "Not another word is to be spoken in here while you do your chores. Then I'll decide what to do with each of you. Do. You. Understand?" He waited for the obligatory confirmations from his men. "Good, now get with it." He waved them off as he felt sweat rolling down from his temples. Never had he lost control of his men like this.

Hank watched as his men peeled out of the line-up and headed for their respective assignments. It was obvious that each was angry about what had just occurred, but Hank had no idea what to make of the melt down. He ran a hand through his hair just as Marco moved out of the line-up. He opened his mouth to call his senior lineman into his office, then thought better of it. Something unspoken was going on between Mike and Marco. He thought back to the way Mike had quickly intervened between their linemen. His second in command was a strong, silent and stalwart man who rarely jumped to conclusions. Hank coughed into his closed fist, frustrated by what had happened, but very determined to get to the bottom of it. "Not you, Mike. I want to see you in my office."

Mike and Marco once again exchanged a knowing look. "Yes, sir."

Hank stomped off towards the captain's office, feeling as if his ears were blowing steam. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that what just happened was a prank his men had pulled on him. But Hank Stanley knew better. This was no joke. The emotions displayed in the apparatus bay were very real. His tight-knit crew was falling apart and the catalyst appeared to be his senior lineman. He just hoped he could get some answers from the trusted man following him into his office.

Just as Hank's foot crossed the threshold of his office, the tones sounded. "Jeezus," he muttered under his breath. He walked hurriedly to the radio to acknowledge the call, praying that somehow the division within his crew could be set aside for the safety of whomever was in need of their services.

"Squad 51 – unconscious woman, 1749 Market Street, apartment 10… That's 1-7-4-9 Market Street, apartment 10, Cross Street – Belleview. Time out, 0824 hours."

"Squad 51, KMG365," Hank spoke authoritatively into the mic. He tore off the piece of paper from the pad and passed it to his senior paramedic.

Roy had already tightened his chin strap and quickly passed the paper over to his partner. Johnny accepted it, adjusting his helmet as the bay door rose. Hank stood back watching as the squad exited the station, turning right on the first run of the shift. He trusted his paramedics to be professionals when the lives of the citizens in their district were at stake. He just hoped the two warring men could work out their differences before they returned to the station. Slowly, he turned around and saw his engineer standing at the door of the captain's office. Hank blew out his breath, hesitating long enough to look around him, ensuring his linemen had gone their separate ways. Quickly, he made his way over to the place where Mike stood.

"Stoker… What the hell just happened?"

Mike bit his bottom lip, looking over his shoulder towards the latrine. When he didn't see Marco, he turned to face his superior once more. He didn't want to betray Marco's trust, but if he didn't do something, his captain may have to resort to multiple disciplinary actions. He had to quickly decide which was more important, the trust of his friend, or the respect of his captain and the salvation of the A-shift at Station 51. He uncrossed his arms, planting his hands firmly on his hips. No one was going to win in this particular situation and he knew it. Even though Marco had not intended to drag him into the middle of a family dispute, that's exactly where Mike found himself. The only difference was that the 'family' consisted of his shift mates. He quickly made up his mind. Looking at his captain, the man he held in high esteem, he softly spoke up. "Cap… In your office? Please?"

E!

The two paramedics exchanged the barbs from their earlier altercation for a cloak of complete professionalism. No longer were they divided on their opinions, but were once again united by the need of the unknown victim for whom they had been dispatched.

Johnny narrowed his eyes against the glare of the morning sun. He glanced at the map book in his hand, using his middle finger to guide his eyes along the most direct route to their victim. His brown eyes scanned the street signs in search of the one they needed to take. "Next left, Roy."

Roy flipped on the blinker and quickly maneuvered the red Dodge between the yielding vehicles. Both men began scanning the rundown neighborhood, searching for the apartment complex. When it finally came into view, Roy screeched to a stop, silencing the siren while Johnny contacted the dispatcher.

"Squad 51 at scene."

Both men peeled out of the vehicle, opening compartments and removing the gear they thought they might need. Quickly, they walked up the broken sidewalk and into the dilapidated structure. There was no elevator, and the threadbare carpet that ran along the stairs was littered with stains. Johnny felt the crunch of a large roach beneath his foot, and briefly wondered what other sorts of wildlife might call this place home. The stairs creaked and groaned underneath their weight as if protesting the intrusion of the men and their equipment. Finally, after reaching the third floor, Roy noticed a door open and a frantic looking young woman standing in the doorway.

"It's my roommate… Oh, please hurry," the dark haired woman cried, leading them through the sparsely furnished abode. "She's back here."

The sight that awaited them caught them both by surprise. There, lying in the middle of a twin bed, was an unconscious young woman. She was curled into a fetal position with her left forearm wrapped in a towel and resting on the edge of the bed, a pool of blood on the floor.

"What happened?" Roy asked as he and Johnny began to set up their equipment. He rolled their patient onto her back, noting her paleness, and quickly began taking her vitals. He noticed something familiar about the young woman, but didn't allow his mind to ponder the thought. Her condition was critical, and time was something she didn't have much of.

"Johnny, let's get some oxygen on her," Roy stated flatly, his hand resting on his patient's abdomen for a few moments before he turned back to the young woman hovering in the doorway. "What happened?"

The woman, who had identified herself as the patient's roommate, wrapped her arms around her midsection. "I-I don't know. She wasn't feeling well when I left last night, but… But she…"

Roy quickly removed his stethoscope from his ears and allowed it to dangle around his neck. "Did she cut herself intentionally?" He asked, his voice more commanding, as he peeled away the hastily applied bandage, finding the wound more gruesome than he had anticipated. He already knew the answer to his question, but he was hoping it might prompt her roommate to divulge additional information.

"I- I think so. I found her like this when I got home… I-I wrapped the towel around her arm. She was moaning a little then, but she… She quit making any sounds just before you arrived.

In the background, Roy could hear Johnny initiating contact with Rampart.

"Rampart, this is squad 51. How do you read?"

Hearing the deep voice of Dr. Brackett answering, he then returned his attention to the roommate. "Miss, do you have any idea how long ago she cut herself?"

"N-no… I was… I was out… all night. I work nights," the young woman stuttered.

Roy's frustration was building. "Any drugs?"

"NO… I mean, no. She's clean. She just… She did have a miscarriage recently though. She was hurt in a fire and lost the baby."

Johnny and Roy both stopped what they were doing and stared at each other. The pieces suddenly fit together and Roy knew why the young woman looked so familiar. "Johnny, same girl we rescued…"

"Yea, I got it. I'll let Rampart know so they can pull her record." Johnny returned back to the biophone, cradling the black receiver between his left shoulder and ear. He removed the supplies from the IV box, knowing exactly what was going to be ordered, and passed the items to his partner.

"Miss, what's her name?" Roy asked, accepting the items from his partner and beginning the process of prepping his patient's right arm for the large bore IV. He and Johnny had never even thought to ask for her name during her previous rescue. Now, it was extremely important.

"Um, Bri-Brianna," the crying woman spoke softly. "Is she… Is she gonna die?" She sniffled.

"Not if we can help it," Roy answered honestly. He heard the sound of the ambulance approaching. "Do you think you can show the ambulance attendants where we are?" He was a bit relieved when she nodded her agreement and hurriedly exited the small room.

The two men exchanged grimaces, each knowing what the other was thinking. Roy got the IV established while Johnny began a more thorough exam, searching for recent injuries. With Dr. Brackett's explanation for her miscarriage still ringing in the backs of their minds, both men wondered if perhaps the same person who had caused her miscarriage had somehow caused her current injury, whether directly or indirectly.

"Brianna?" Roy called out, using his knuckles for a sternal rub.

"Ugh… Mmmm," she groaned, wrinkling her face at the discomfort.

"Can you open your eyes for me, Brianna?" He continued to call out to her, hoping the sound of her own name would help rouse her.

Johnny continued examining their patient's arms and legs. "I don't see anything new," Johnny spoke up. He knew Roy would understand the statement. At least she hadn't been beaten again. Also, both paramedics had noticed the precision with which the cuts were made. "Looks like she decided she didn't like her tattoo."

"Yea," Roy muttered, turning to look behind him as the Mayfair Ambulance attendants bumped the gurney against the front door frame as they entered the apartment. "Looks like she tried to decapitate Pinocchio."

"Humph, and castrate him, too," Johnny noted, adjusting the flow on the IV as they prepared to transfer her to the stretcher. "I'll bring the squad in," Johnny acknowledged, packing up the supplies. He watched as Brianna and her caregivers made their way out of the apartment. Leaving behind one frustrated paramedic and a very distraught young woman.

"My name is Johnny Gage," the remaining man began. "They're gonna take her to Rampart General Hospital, Miss…?"

The young woman looked up through tear-filled eyes. "Um," she mumbled, finally taking note of the helmet the handsome young paramedic wore. The number on the black helmet was 51 – the same station where her brother worked. She gulped past the sudden lump in her throat, knowing the young man was waiting for her to introduce herself, and in her distress, she nearly used her real name. Finally, she remembered the identification she often carried with her. The one she had been provided with when she began working the streets. "Ah, LeRoux… Alexandria LeRoux," she lied, convincingly.

Johnny smiled. "She's in good hands, Miss LeRoux. Do you know how to get to the hospital?"

She nodded affirmatively, quickly diverting her eyes from the handsome young fireman. "Thank you."

Johnny nodded his head briefly, then headed for the front door to let himself out. He repacked the remaining equipment into the compartments of the squad, slid in behind the steering wheel, and quickly drove in the direction of Rampart General, having no idea that the altercation that had begun at the station during roll call had been directly related to the young woman he had just left behind.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Mike followed his captain into the office and closed the door behind them. Hank took a seat at the desk, gesturing to his engineer to take a seat in the available chair.

"Mike…," Hank began, rubbing his temples. It was still early in the morning and he already had a throbbing headache. "Is this Station 51 or The Twilight Zone?"

Mike gulped. He had never seen his superior so angry at so many crew members at one time. "Um… I - I don't know what to say. I just…"

Hank leaned back in his seat, cutting his eyes at his engineer, and interrupting his mumbling. "Well, you seemed to know what to say to Chet earlier." He narrowed his eyes at Mike, watching as the younger man dropped his face downward slightly. Hank knew that if Mike couldn't make eye contact with him, then he definitely knew what was going on.

"Ahem, I was, ah… I was just trying to defuse the situation. Marco's been under a lot of stress at home lately. He… He really needs to be cut some slack. That's all."

"What kind of pressure?"

This was what Mike had feared would happen when he suggested that he and Hank talk in the captain's office. He was afraid that his captain would want more of an explanation than he was prepared to provide. "Just, ah… Just some family issues."

Once again, Hank's frustration was reaching the boiling point. "Don't patronize me, Michael Stoker." Hank inched himself closer to the nervous engineer, boring his hazel eyes at Mike. He had never had to put this kind of pressure on his engineer before and he didn't like doing it now. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, Mike lifted his face slightly, his weary blue eyes looking at his angry captain. Silently, he pleaded for a reprieve from the interrogatory pressure.

"Now, I'll repeat my earlier question and I want the truth…. The whole truth. What the hell's going on with my men?"

E!

Chet shoved angrily through the kitchen door, wanting to kick or punch something… Or someone. He stood staring at the sink, several dirty coffee cups lined up in the basin. Cleaning up the cups would be easy; cleaning up his relationship with Marco wouldn't be quite so simple. He felt angry and bitter towards the man who had been his best friend and partner for several years.

"Shit," he cursed, spinning around and tentatively sticking his head out the kitchen door. He needed to make sure that Captain Stanley was in his office. He knew the seasoned officer had intentionally separated his linemen, but right now, Chet needed to talk to Marco. He couldn't let this fester any longer.

E!

Marco picked up the toilet brush and began scrubbing the porcelain bowl, grateful the task was a mundane one. His mind wasn't on his chores. Although he knew it was wrong, he wanted to be eavesdropping on the conversation between Mike and Captain Stanley. Was Mike giving away his family secret? He had always trusted Mike, trusted him with his life on every run, but this was different. He had mistakenly brought his engineer, his friend, into the Lopez family nightmare, and it had done him absolutely no good. He had thought that sharing his mission with Mike would somehow ease the burden on himself. Instead, it had brought on a new nightmare. Now, he wondered if his family secret was being divulged to his shift captain.

He flushed the toilet; the noise drowning out the sound of the latrine door being pushed open. He straightened back up, startled by who was waiting for him. There, standing with his arms crossed and leaning against the row of lockers was his partner.

"I believe I heard Cap assign you kitchen duty," Marco muttered, his voice gruff with frustration.

Chet stared silently at his friend, wondering how so much had gone so wrong so quickly. He saw the pain on his friend's face, and his own anger began to fade. "This isn't like you, Marco."

Marco broke eye contact quickly, moving on to the shower stall. He did not want to have this conversation right now. "Better get back to the kitchen, Chet. I was assigned latrine duty, not you."

"Oh, stow it, Marco. This is me you're talkin' to. What the hell did I do to you for you to be so pissed off at me, huh?"

"Nothing," he stated curtly, using the bottle of bathroom cleaner to spritz the shower stall. He then began scrubbing it, turning his back to his friend.

Chet uncrossed his arms, walking towards the shower stall. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching his friend closely. "Then what did that little girl do to piss you off, man? She might be a victim, and you're ignoring her."

"I don't ignore victims, Chet," Marco spat out through clenched teeth. "I try my best to save them… All of them."

"Oh yea? Then tell me this. How are you helpin' her?" Chet asked, pointing towards the place where they had stood for roll call. He hesitated for a moment, hoping he had been able to break through the stone fortress his friend had built around himself. Then, knowing he needed to get back to the kitchen, he turned and pushed his way through the latrine door. The last thing he needed was to have his captain see him talking to Marco.

Chet's words were like a knife in Marco's back. He stopped scrubbing for a moment, the words echoing in his ears. Chet was wrong about him. He knew that Julia Hubbard might be a victim, but he wasn't able to discuss it with his younger partner. Julia was about the same age as Alexia when she ran away; a fact that tore a hole in his already battered heart. There were plenty of sick twisted people out there, preying on innocent kids just like Julia. He leaned his forearm against the cold tile of the shower stall, resting his head against his arm. He felt like he was reliving a nightmare, one from which he couldn't wake up.

The chlorine assaulted him, burning his eyes and nose. Quickly, he exited the stall, needing a breath of fresh air. Leaving his cleaning supplies behind, he rushed out of the latrine door, out into the cool morning air behind the station. Feeling a bit calmer in the morning sun, he meandered over to the hose tower, taking a seat on the lower rung. He had to pull himself together before they got toned out.

Mike walked out of the captain's office, catching a glimpse of Chet going back into the kitchen and seeing Marco exiting the latrine. He knew by the way Marco's shoulders were slumped, that Chet had likely continued the altercation against their captain's orders. He exhaled as he walked towards his downtrodden friend, frustrated at Chet for not heeding his earlier advice to simply let it go. He slowed his pace as he approached Marco, unsure of what had just transpired.

"That little twerp just can't leave it alone, huh?" Mike asked, referring to Chet.

Marco looked up, but away from Mike, staring instead at the brick wall at the back of the parking lot. "You told him, didn't you?"

Mike felt the sting of Marco's words, unsure if he was referring to Chet or Captain Stanley. "Told who what?"

"Damn, Mike. You're starting to sound like John." Marco stood up, leaning against the metal poles for support as he faced his engineer. "You told Cap about Lexi, didn't you?"

"No… Not exactly."

"Not exactly?" The older man questioned, raising his eyebrows. "Well, what EXACTLY did you tell him?"

Mike shifted his feet, unconsciously grinding them into the cement. "Just that you were having some… some family issues."

"Humph, yea, like… My sister's a damn whore, right?"

"NO," Mike grunted, his teeth clenched tightly, poising himself with both hands on his hips.

"Bullshit," Marco huffed. "I know Cap as well as you do. You had to tell him something."

"I told him you were having difficulties at home, but I didn't say what." Mike could feel his own temper rising from the accusations being hurled at him.

Silence filled the air, nothing but the distant indistinct sounds of the passing cars on the 405 behind them was heard. Finally, Marco broke the uncomfortable stalemate. "Okay… I appreciate that. I," he continued, swiping the inside corners of his eyes. I'm sorry… I – I just… I'm having a hard time with what Sabrina said the other night."

"I know… But taking it out on Julia Hubbard isn't going to help."

Marco cut a quick glance at his engineer. "I'm not taking anything out on her. She's… She's just a little girl."

"A little girl who might be in danger. And you blew her off," Mike spat out, his aggravation growing.

Marco blew out his checks, his eyes dropping back down to the cement. "No I didn't." He finally looked in Mike's direction, sad dark eyes filling with regret. "I was running late this morning because I stopped to put gas in my car. A couple of ladies from her neighborhood were handing out those flyers… And, I took one. I have it in my car." He shifted his gaze away from his engineer. "I was going to keep an eye out for her when I was out looking for Lexi."

Mike heard the depressed tone in his friend's voice and the way he used the past tense. "WAS going to?" He questioned somewhat sarcastically. "Don't tell me you're giving up?"

Marco stood up, his eyes shifting downward to the cement parking lot. "No… That's not how I meant it. I'm not giving up; not yet, anyway… But, I almost did… Then, I saw a girl that looked a lot like Lexi and… Why doesn't she want to be found, Mike? I - I just don't understand. And how can I make Sabrina tell me what she knows?"

"WE can't make Sabrina tell US anything," Mike said, emphasizing the fact that Marco was not alone on his mission. "But we keep on trying. And we keep asking Sabrina. Remember the old saying, 'the squeaky wheel gets the grease?' We just have to keep on squeaking until she gets tired of us."

Marco gave his engineer a slight smile of appreciation. "She's my sister and… No matter what she's done, I… I can't quit. So, I guess I'll just keep squeaking."

Relief flooded Mike's soul. "Good… We'll find her, Marco. Together… You and I… We'll find her."

Marco swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. He knew he had a lot of apologizing to do. "I really am sorry about what I said when you first came out here."

"It's okay."

Marco finally found the courage to look at his engineer directly in the eyes. "So… What did Cap have to say?"

"Um, he wants to see you. He wanted me to come get you."

Marco scrubbed his face with his hand. "Alright, guess I'm getting sent home then. Might as well go ahead and face the music." He pushed himself off the hose tower, walking past Mike without looking at him as he headed for Hank's office. He had never been in trouble before, but now his stellar record was about to become tarnished.

E!

Johnny parked the squad near the Mayfair ambulance, nodding to the two attendants who were returning to the vehicle. He then walked through the glass doors and down the hallway to the nurses' station.

"Mornin', Dix."

"Hey there, Tiger. Waiting on Roy?"

Johnny poured himself a cup of coffee then leaned over onto the base station while he waited for it to cool. "Yea, he just brought a victim in."

"He came in with Brianna Olivier, right?"

"Um, I never got her last name," Johnny responded, tentatively testing his coffee. "But, I do know that her first name is Brianna. She's the same girl we brought in last week from the fire. She was pregnant then, but… Well, the baby didn't make it." Johnny stared at the floor repeating the names in his head. Something didn't sound right, but he wasn't sure what it was.

"Poor girl. I heard the call come in, but Sally took it. She's in with Kel in treatment room four now." Dixie tilted her head slightly, watching Johnny gazing into nothingness.

"Johnny? Are you alright?"

Johnny was jolted by the sound of his name being called. He stood up straighter just as the door of treatment room four opened and his partner walked out. "Oh, yea… Yea, Dix… I'm fine… Olivier, you said?" He looked at the head nurse with a curious expression on his face.

"That's right."

Johnny raised one eyebrow. "Ah, the name Olivier is…"

"Ready?" Roy questioned as he walked up to the nurses' station, his mood still sour from the earlier conversation during roll call.

"Hmmm," Johnny mumbled setting his coffee cup down on the counter. "Oh, yea… Yea, I'm ready."

Dixie watched as the two men walked down the corridor and made the familiar left turn, noting that there seemed to be a little more distance between them than was usual… And a lot more silence.

Neither paramedic spoke as they each got into the cab of the squad. Their usual banter was gone, replaced by raw emotions that neither one wanted to discuss at the moment. Roy turned the key in the ignition, shifting into gear, and pulling out of the parking space. Johnny cleared his throat, uncomfortable with their earlier comments. He reached for the mic just as three beeps warned of an impending call. He picked it up preparing to respond to the question about to be asked.

"Squad 51. What's your status?"

Johnny keyed the mic. "Squad 51, available."

"Stand-by for a response."

Both paramedics reached for their helmets, securing them in place. They looked straight forward, feeling the wind blowing through the open windows of the squad as the familiar tones sounded for Station 51.

E!

Marco slowly walked to the captain's office, dreading the impending conversation. He found the door open, so he simply cleared his throat to announce his presence. "Ahem… You, ah, you wanted to see me?"

Hank looked up from the personnel file he had been reading. "Yes, close the door and take a seat." He waited for his lineman to comply before proceeding.

"Marco…"

"I know what you're going to say, Cap. And you're right. It's all my fault, so… So, I'll take whatever punishment you give me," he said looking down at his feet. He had worked for the Los Angeles County Fire Department for seven years and up until a week ago had never been in any kind of trouble. Now, he found himself sitting in the captain's office for the second time in as many shifts. He had escaped a reprimand the first time, but he knew that he couldn't tempt fate twice. This time, fate would win.

Hank closed the personnel file, his head still aching from the turmoil. "I, uh, I understand from Mike that you haven't been feeling well lately."

Marco knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. "Sir?"

"I said," Hank began again, emphasizing his words very carefully. "I understand from Mike that you haven't been feeling well lately… Maybe you need to take a sick day, huh?"

"No sir… No sir, I'm not sick. I've been under a lot of stress lately, but…"

"You aren't hearing me, are you, Lopez?" Hank said, pushing a blank reprimand form in his direction, allowing the lineman to see it resting on top of his personnel file. "Sometimes our tempers tend to flare when we aren't feeling well. Maybe, if you took a sick day… A paid sick day… You might feel better when you return to work next shift." Hank sat back, propping one elbow on the arm of his chair. "Think carefully before you give me your answer, Marco."

Marco looked down at the reprimand form, feeling a sinking feeling in his gut. He knew he was being given the option of taking a sick day or being written up. He tried to lick his dry lips, but found his tongue had gone just as dry. "I, uh, I think…"

Before he could complete his sentence, the tones sounded.

"Cap?" Marco asked, standing quickly. "Don't request another engine. I can do this."

Hank listened to the information being given by Sam Lanier. They were being dispatched for a motor vehicle accident in a remote area and he knew that time was critical. He hurriedly headed for the radio to acknowledge the call, tossing his decision over his shoulder to his senior lineman. "Get your gear on."

E!

Johnny listened to the address given, not needing to consult the map. He was familiar with the location. The desolate area was at the very edge of their district, down a dusty winding road. He had passed through there recently on a solo camping trip so he knew exactly how to get to the scene quickly.

"Take a right at the second light, Roy. It's gonna take us at least fifteen minutes to get out there," Johnny said, his arm resting on the window ledge of the squad.

Roy made the turn as requested. He and Johnny had been partners for over five years and he trusted the younger man's judgment. Their earlier differences of opinion didn't change the fact that they were the best paramedic team in the county.

Roy drove silently, his mind completely on the task at hand. He carefully rounded each curve, the dual rear wheels of the squad kicking up a trail of dust. Both men squinted their eyes in search of any signs of an accident. Finally, a recently broken sapling near the edge of the road alerted Johnny.

"There, Roy," he nearly shouted, pointing up ahead.

Roy pulled up ahead, just north of the curve where the vehicle had gone off the road. He parked the squad in a location where it could be easily seen by oncoming traffic. Even though the area was remote, it was still traveled often enough that he wanted to give other drivers plenty of warning about the accident scene. He knew that Mike would do the same thing by pulling to a stop just south of the accident on the opposite side of the curve.

Mike drove the engine as carefully as he could along the desolate road. Ahead, he could see a faint trail of dust and knew that their paramedics were a couple of miles ahead of them. As he maneuvered around a curve, he caught a glimpse of Captain Stanley looking back at their linemen.

Hank tried not to be too obvious, but he couldn't help keeping an eye on his feuding men. Lives may be at stake, and he hoped he hadn't made a mistake by allowing his station to take the run.

"They'll be alright, Cap."

Hank turned his face to his engineer, wishing he felt the same level of confidence his second in command seemed to feel. "What makes you so sure?"

"I know them," Mike responded as the engine continued to bounce along the unpaved road. "And so do you. Give them a chance to work it out for themselves," he suggested. He looked straight ahead, pulling the engine to a stop along the edge of the roadway where Johnny and Roy now stood. "He needs us, Cap."

Hank allowed Mike's words to sink in as he reached for the microphone. "Engine 51 at scene."

Johnny began harnessing up, preparing to go down the side of the hill to assess the situation. At this point, they didn't know if they were dealing with a rescue or a recovery. Roy jogged over to the engine to give an update on what they knew so far, the earlier station dispute all but forgotten. "Looks like a one-car accident. Johnny and I have been trying to get a response, but so far we can't hear anything from below."

"Okay, take the handy-talkies with you. Lopez, Stoker, get their lines ready. Kelly, get the stokes and start loading it up. Get a line on it so we can lower it down to them once they get down there." Hank stood sideways so that he could keep an eye on his men and still watch for signs of life down below.

Marco secured Roy's line then signaled for him to go over the edge. No matter what their differences had been earlier, they were both professionals. Roy never hesitated; he trusted his shift mate completely. He reached behind him, grasping the rope in his gloved hand, then began his descent. As usual, Johnny was already a few steps ahead of him. He took the passenger's side of the vehicle while Roy descended toward the driver's door.

While he was watching his paramedics repelling down the hillside, Hank heard another vehicle stop and the sound of two doors opening and closing. He looked up to see his friend Vince from the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Office and an elderly gentleman walking their way.

"Are they okay?" The old man questioned, obviously worried about the occupants of the vehicle.

"This is Mr. Sanders. He called it in," Vince explained. "Says two females passed his house at a high rate of speed about thirty minutes ago. He figured they weren't going to make it far along this road so he followed them, seeing the trail of dust where they went over the side here. He had to go back to his house, about a mile and a half back down the road so he could call it in."

"Thank you, Mr. Sanders. I've got two men on their way down to them now," Hank replied, turning back around to watch what his men were doing, both the two who were closing in on the accident scene and the three who remained topside. The last thing he needed was a dispute breaking out between Marco and Chet now.

Johnny reached his destination, unclipping his carabiner, and stepped closer to the passenger's side. The car had come to rest on a small plateau, allowing him to walk around freely once he reached the flatter ground. He pushed the brush away from the door and peered inside. He didn't like what he saw, and struggled to open the door that had been damaged by the impact. After pulling on it several times, he was finally able to gain entry to assess his patient. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roy opening the back door behind the driver, and knew the driver's side door was jammed. His hands quickly reached over the front seat, assessing his teenaged unconscious patient.

Johnny used his teeth to remove his glove then searched for any signs of life from his young female patient. "Miss… Miss, can you hear me?" He asked, concerned by the blood that had flowed down the side of her face, leaving a dark crimson stain in her auburn hair. He got no response. He used his fingers to search for her carotid pulse, feeling a sense of urgency when he found what he was looking for. She was still alive, but her breathing was shallow and her eyes were swelling shut. He checked her pupillary response while he could still pry them open, noting that the right pupil was blown. "C'mon, sweetheart… Can you hear me?" He continued talking as he finished up his initial assessment, struggling to complete the task. His victim had obviously been thrown against the windshield, causing quite a bit of facial lacerations, and a concussion, or worse.

Roy began his assessment, holding up his weight with one knee at the edge of the back seat, while he contorted his upper torso over the bench seat to check out his young patient. He thought he saw a slight rise and fall of his victim's chest, although it was covered with blood dripping off her face. A quick check confirmed that she was alive, but barely. The impact had caused her to slam into the steering wheel, breaking the steering column. The dash had folded in on top of her when the front of the car impacted the hard surface of the ground.

"Whatcha got, Roy?"

"She's alive, but we've got to get her out of here quick. I really can't get to her until you get yours out."

Johnny keyed up the mic on his handy-talkie. "HT 51 to engine 51."

"Go ahead, Johnny."

"Cap, we got two victims. Females. We're gonna need help gettin' 'em outta here. They're in bad shape."

Marco and Chet turned at the sound of Johnny's distressed voice. Both noted the look they received from their captain and they jumped into action.

"I've got Lopez and Kelly on their way down. Mike and I will send down the equipment. What do ya need?"

Roy heard the question and gave his partner a worried glance. "Man power. I think we can get your victim out easily enough, but mine looks like she's wedged in there pretty tight."

"Yea… Let's get mine out, then we can take her out on the passenger's side." He looked at his partner, waiting for some indication of agreement. When he saw Roy nod his head, he keyed up the handy-talkie. "Cap, we just need additional manpower along with the stokes, backboards, and trauma box, and a pry bar. We'll have to get them up top to do more than stop the bleedin'. Uh, Cap… Is there a law enforcement officer up there?"

"Affirmative."

"He may need him to assume custody, they're young."

Hank looked over at Vince, seeing him give a quick acknowledging wave.

"10-4," Hank responded, waving for Mike's help as Marco and Chet prepared to go down the hill. "Vince, call for a couple of ambulances, will ya? Then we're gonna need your help getting these victims up this hill."

"You got it," the officer responded, opening the door of his patrol car and reaching in for the microphone.

Marco used Roy's line to guide him down, carrying the trauma box with him. He looked up and saw Chet following him over the edge, using Johnny's line for support. He carried the smaller backboard with him, knowing that Mike would send the larger one down in the stokes.

"Whatcha need, Roy?" Marco asked as he stepped onto the plateau and released his grip on the rope.

Roy looked at Marco, noting the intensity in the lineman's eyes. Neither man was thinking of anything except extricating their victim.

"Get me a C-collar. We need to get Johnny's victim out first. We aren't going to be able to move this one until that one is out," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the passenger.

Chet heard Roy's request and quickly kneeled down, opening the trauma box.

"Get me a C-collar, too," Johnny ordered. "And the backboard."

"Here," Marco offered, reaching down beside Chet. "Help Johnny. I'll help Roy get the other one out. These kids don't have much time."

"Yea… I can tell," Chet said, rushing to aid Johnny in the removal of the first victim. As soon as the passenger was out, Marco slid across the seat, assisting Roy with the C- collar. He knew the paramedic was getting tired, having been twisted over the bench seat trying to keep the patient's head and neck as stable as possible while the first victim had been extricated.

"Be careful, Marco. I'm not sure what kind of damage she's got. I can't really do much of an assessment from here," Roy complained.

Marco adjusted the C-collar, stabilizing the young girl's neck. "Okay, she's… Ohmygod!"

"What?" Roy asked, fearing the worst.

Chet and Johnny managed to get their victim secured in the stokes Mike had brought down. "Can you take her up?" Chet asked, knowing he needed to return to help Roy and Marco.

"Yea, we've got her," Mike agreed, exchanging places with Chet and assisting Johnny in getting the victim to the top of the hill.

Chet then returned to the wreckage just in time to hear Marco's explanation to Roy.

"This is her… the girl on the poster." He increased the volume of his voice, yet softened it for his young victim. "Julia? Julia can you hear me?" Marco asked, hoping to get some kind of response from the young girl.

"This is the girl from this morning? She's only thirteen; why was she driving?" Chet questioned; his words rambling as he used a pry bar to pop open the jammed driver's side door.

"Doesn't matter, Chet. Right now, we've got to get her out of here. She's running out of time," Roy stated firmly.

It took the three men several minutes of maneuvering to secure her to the backboard, but soon they were on their way up the side of the hill with young Julia Hubbard in tow. Roy and Chet exchanged confused glances as they carried the girl to the squad. Both realized that Marco had recognized the girl from the poster. The same poster that he had refused to look at during roll call. They didn't have but a split second to ponder how he knew about Julia. As soon as they set her on the ground, Roy jumped into full paramedic mode.

Immediately, Mike was on the biophone with Rampart and Hank was opening the IV box, searching for the supplies Dr. Early was ordering. The two paramedics worked at a feverish pace, establishing IV's, administering ordered medications, and securing stacks of 4 by 4's to lacerations to slow down the blood loss. By the time they had taped down the IV's, the sound of sirens was heard in the distance.

They loaded the girls up into separate ambulances, each one accompanied by a paramedic. Hank closed the doors of each ambulance, pounding the back door with two hard knocks to alert the driver that they were ready to go.

"Marco?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Take the squad in and pick up those two, will ya?" Hank asked, pleased with how well his crew had responded to this call in spite of the earlier altercation. Now, he had to decide what to do with them once they all returned to quarters.

E!

Marco carefully made a three-point turn on the narrow dirt road, careful not to let the rear wheels of the squad go over the edge. He was in enough trouble with his captain without adding wrecking the squad to his list of transgressions. He lined the vehicle up with the road and followed the retreating ambulances. The dust trail was thick, so he slowed down significantly. There was no hurry to get the squad to the hospital like there was for the ambulances.

The long trip gave him time to think about all that had transpired since the shift began. He had made several mistakes since he arrived at work. He had been rude to his co-workers and short with his captain. He had nearly incited a riot during roll call by making comments about race. He knew in his heart that his co-workers had never treated him or John differently based on their heritage, but that wasn't always the case. He knew that all too well. His mind then turned to the victims they had just rescued, especially the younger one. Her parents had been worried sick while she was gone; that was a feeling he and his family knew well. Now, the young girl was fighting for her life with Roy at her side, and her parents had no idea that she was even alive. He just hoped that the child would still be alive when her parents were notified that she had been located.

E!

Alexia Lopez bit her fingernails as the bus she was riding bounced along West Carson Street. Her heart skipped a beat as two ambulances, lights flashing and sirens wailing, passed by her window. She knew they were likely headed to the same place she was going – Rampart General Hospital. She thought about the kind young men who had answered her call for help when she had found her roommate bleeding from a self-inflicted injury just a few hours earlier. She hoped that the people in the back of those ambulances were receiving the same kind of care that Brianna had received. The bus rumbled through another stop with people getting on and a couple disembarking. Finally, it came to a stop at the corner of West Carson Street and South Vermont Avenue. She stepped off the bus, heading for the entrance to the hospital just as a red squad rounded the corner, heading for the emergency entrance. She wasn't able to see the driver, but she recognized the number on the door. It was squad 51; the same one that had responded to her call for help. She thought again about the young man with dark hair who had been so kind to her before he left her apartment. Without a second thought, she walked around to the back of the building, hoping to have the opportunity to speak to him on her way to see Brianna. She wanted to thank him for all he and his partner had done for her roommate. Gratitude was something she rarely felt, anymore. Normally, when she was in the presence of a man, she felt cheap and dirty. But the paramedics had made her feel… Normal? Respected? She couldn't quite find the word for how they made her feel. All she knew was that it felt good, and she wanted to let them know that she appreciated it. Then, she would have to face Brianna and all the demons who seemed to be determined to destroy her.

She reached the place where the sidewalk turned toward the emergency entrance and looked up just as the driver of the squad turned his back to her and walked through the emergency entrance. He looked a little shorter and heavier than she remembered, but she had been very upset back at her apartment when they had met. She looked at the number on the door of the squad again, confirming that it was Squad 51, then headed for the place where she had seen him enter the building. She knew this might be her only chance to tell the paramedic how much she appreciated what he and his partner had done.

A/N: Thank you to those who have given me feedback through reviews, PM's, and emails. I appreciate your comments.


	9. Chapter 9

Warning: extreme language

Chapter 9

Marco walked through the glass doors into the emergency department looking for his comrades. As he made the right turn heading down the corridor, he saw Johnny leaning against the wall in the hallway between treatment rooms. The paramedic stood on one foot with the other propped against the wall behind him. His shoulders were slouching, and he had both hands deep inside his pants pockets. The dejected look on his face told Marco the news.

"She didn't make it, did she?"

Johnny looked up, his hair disheveled and face smudged with dust mixed with sweat. He shook his head sorrowfully. "No… Doc said her head injury was too severe. She, ah… She coded just before we got here and…," he hesitated, blowing out his breath. "We couldn't get her back."

"I'm sorry, John," Marco offered. "You did your best."

"We all did, Marco." He turned to face the lineman, leaning a shoulder against the wall. "She was only 22 years old. Her name was Peggy."

Marco waited, sensing that Johnny wasn't finished with his statement.

"She was wearin' this little purse across her chest and… Hell, there was so much blood, I didn't even notice it at first, but… It had her driver's license in it. Doc's talkin' to Vince now."

"I guess he'll have to notify her family."

Marco's statement faded as the door beside them opened up. Roy saw the look on the faces of both men and knew immediately what had happened.

"Your patient didn't make it?" Asked the red-haired paramedic.

Johnny shook his head. "Yours?"

"Hanging in there. Dr. Brackett's still working on her. As soon as an OR opens up, she'll be taken upstairs." He rubbed his chin with his hand thoughtfully. "If she makes it, she'll… She'll have a very long recovery."

"Damn," Marco mumbled, pushing away from the wall. "Have her parents been notified?"

"I don't know. I guess Vince is handling that part," Roy responded. "Johnny, why don't we go check on Brianna. I could use some good news right now."

Johnny and Marco both nodded, then the three of them turned heading for the nurses' station. Marco wasn't sure who Brianna was, but the distraction would delay his receiving of Captain Stanley's punishment for his roll call melee.

Roy aimed his next question at Marco. "How'd you know it was her?" The paramedic raised his hand to ward off any negative comments from his two shift mates. "I'm not trying to start anything, Marco. I was just wondering how you knew it was the missing girl. You didn't even look at her picture this morning," Roy asked.

Marco scrubbed his hand across his face. He deserved whatever Roy threw at him, yet, he knew the man was only asking a simple question, not picking a fight. "I, uh… I have a copy of the flyer in my car. I'd already seen it."

Roy and Johnny exchanged confused glances. Johnny was about to ask a question when they walked in front of the nurses' station. Dixie spoke up from her perch behind the counter.

"Hey, fellas. I thought you'd like to know that the young lady you brought in here this morning has been sent up to the fifth floor."

"She's stable?" Johnny asked.

"Physically, yes… Mentally, no," the head nurse spoke in her sultry smoky voice.

"We were coming over to ask about her. We kind of hoped we could check in on her," Roy explained.

"I'm sure she could use a friend right now," Dixie remarked. She could tell that the men in front of her had experienced a difficult rescue by the way their shoulders seemed to sag with an unseen weight. She surmised that Brianna might not be the only one who needed a friend at the moment.

The three men gave her halfhearted smiles as they turned towards the elevators. Johnny reached the silver metallic doors first, reaching out his finger and pushing the up arrow. The door immediately opened revealing an empty car. Marco stepped inside first turning around just as the paramedics stepped inside in front of him.

Johnny pushed the button for the fifth floor then looked up in time to see a dark-haired woman heading quickly down the corridor in their direction.

"Mr. Gage? Mr. DeSoto?" She called out just as a familiar face looked up at her from behind the two paramedics. She stopped suddenly, shocked at whom she was seeing. "Ugh-um."

Marco locked eyes with Lexi just as the elevator doors closed. He pushed his way between the paramedics slamming his open hand against the closed doors, trying desperately to pry them apart with his bare hands. Johnny was busy jabbing the 'open' button, but his efforts were in vain.

"Sonofabitch!" Marco shouted, startling his crew mates. "Open this fucking door!"

"I'm tryin', Marco. It's too late. What's the matter with you?" Johnny questioned, harshly.

"I've got to talk to her," the older man grunted out through clenched teeth.

"Who? Miss LeRoux?" Johnny asked, jerking his thumb at the elevator door, having recognized the woman from their first run of the day.

Marco was too incensed to hear the name Johnny had called out. He slammed his hands against the doors again as the elevator slowed its upward progress.

Roy pulled Marco back away from the door. "Take it easy. Now, what the hell's going on?" He asked, pulling the hysterical man back just as the door opened on the fifth floor.

In a rush of blinding madness, Marco shot out of the elevator and headed for the stairs. He had to get back down to the emergency department. For the first time in almost five years, he had looked into the eyes of his sister and nothing was going to get in his way of finding her again.

Roy and Johnny rushed out behind him, following their frantic coworker into the stairwell. A visit with Brianna would have to wait.

"Hey, Marco! Hold up!" Johnny called out, bounding down the first flight of stairs on the heels of his lineman. He watched as the older man continued winding his way down from floor to floor as if the entire building was about to flash over. As they neared the second floor landing, Marco's sense of urgency got the better of him and he jumped over the last four steps stumbling awkwardly on the landing.

"Aughhh!" He groaned as he slammed against the stairwell wall. "Damn it!"

"Hold on!" Johnny huffed, blocking the limping man from the next set of stairs. "Take it easy."

"Get out of my way, John."

"No," Roy panted, joining his partner's stance. "You tell us what's going on, and then maybe we'll get out of your way."

"Move it!" Marco tried to push past them, but the pain in his ankle hindered his progress. "Shit!" He groaned in pain, teeth clenched. "You're letting her get away!"

"Get away from what?" Johnny asked. "She's prob'bly just here to visit her roommate. That's Miss LeRoux, Brianna Olivier's roommate."

"No, no… That was …. W-Who?" Marco didn't realize how close he came to revealing who the young woman was, but the name Johnny had just spoken shocked him.

"Miss LeRoux, um,… Hell, I can't remember her first name. Somethin' like Alex, Alexandria, or somethin', but how do you know her?"

Marco sank back against the wall, his heart crushed. It had been a long time since he had seen his sister or heard her voice. Had he just made a monumental mistake? "I - I guess… I don't know her." The adrenaline surge he had experienced began to wane, and Marco slid down the wall into a trembling heap, his ankle beginning to throb and swell. "How do you know her?"

"You really weren't listening earlier, were you?" Roy questioned. "Remember Brianna? The suicide attempt we rolled on this morning?"

Marco nodded his head, resting his forehead in his hand to cover his eyes.

"Well, that was Brianna's roommate."

Marco felt his entire body go limp. He had been so sure of the young woman's identity. Now, his shift mates were making him question what he had seen and heard. Regardless, the anxiety of the situation, and the doubt the paramedics were creating, made him realize that he wasn't sure of anything, not even his own sanity. He rubbed his hand across his face, smoothing his mustache. "I'm… I'm sorry fellas."

"What had you so freaked out?" Johnny asked, reaching a hand out to help his lineman up.

Marco's crushed spirit appeared on his darkened face. "Nothing… I - I made a mistake." He accepted Johnny's hand, grimacing when he tried to put weight on his ankle.

"Whoa," Roy spoke up, gently placing a hand on Marco's chest. "What did you hurt?"

"Ankle. It's just a little stiff. I'm alright, DeSoto," Marco explained. He thought about his captain's offer of a sick day, and knew that now he was going to definitely need it. "Um, why don't we go back up and visit with… Brianna, you said?" Marco really wanted to get a better look at Miss LeRoux. He wanted to make sure that the young woman wasn't his wayward sister.

"No, we'll catch her later. You need to get that ankle checked-out," Roy stated.

"No, no… I'll be fine," Marco said, feeling the sharp pain shooting up his leg as he tried to walk normally. "C'mon, fellas."

Roy and Johnny exchanged confused looks. This time, Johnny tried to convince the stubborn lineman.

"Cut it out, man. We're gonna take you down to the ER for an x-ray."

"Like hell," Marco mumbled, trying to push past the two insistent paramedics, shocking them by his uncharacteristic language.

Roy used both hands to push Marco against the wall. Johnny took a step to the side, effectively blocking Marco from going up or down the stairs. He was about to raise his voice back at the upset lineman when a familiar voice was heard from the bottom stairwell.

"Is everything alright up there?"

Roy and Marco were locked in a stare leaving neither of them to witness Johnny's smug smirk. He had never been happier to hear the voice of Dr. Early.

"Uh, yea… Yea, we're a'right. Marco twisted his ankle, though. Roy and I were just helpin' him down to the ER for an x-ray." Johnny paused, waiting for Marco to look at him. "Right, Marco?"

Marco pressed his lips into a thin line. His breathing was rapid, and his eyes were hurling daggers at the younger paramedic. "Don't do this, Gage."

"Come on, Johnny," Roy stated, turning slightly to ensure that his voice was heard by the gray-haired physician. "Let's get him down."

Marco flared his nostrils, knowing that his plan for going back upstairs had just been thwarted by the kindly doctor.

"I'll have Dixie set up a treatment room and contact Malcolm," Joe explained. "Marco, I'll be waiting for you," he said, pulling open the door and heading back into the corridor of the emergency room. He didn't know what he had interrupted, but he knew it was more than just a couple of paramedics assisting a fellow firefighter down a flight of stairs.

"I swear, you have NO idea what you're doing," the lineman grunted.

Johnny wrapped an arm around Marco's waist, pulling the injured man's arm across his shoulder. "Well, why don't you tell us?"

Roy mirrored Johnny's stance with their lineman, waiting to see if Marco might disclose any information to explain his strange behavior. Instead, all he got was a frustrated sigh as they made their way down the final flight of stairs and headed for a treatment room.

E!

Lexi hurriedly made her way back to the bus stop, tears streaming down her face. He had recognized her and she knew it. Now, it was only a matter of time before he found her apartment. If her brother knew the two paramedics who had responded to her call for help this morning, then they might tell him where she lived. She couldn't allow that to happen, no matter how badly she wanted to see him and the rest of her family. She wrapped her arms around her thin mid-section, hugging herself to still her trembling arms. She allowed the tears to flow freely, smearing her face with make-up. She sat watching a fast food wrapper being blown about from the cars speeding past her, feeling as used and worthless as the garbage that was being run over then tossed in front of the next tire, in a never ending line of traffic. She had spent the last four years being used, run over, and thrown aside like she was nothing but a piece of rubbish. She missed the father she had buried far too young. She missed her protective older brothers, especially their corny jokes. She missed her mother's hugs, and home cooked meals of comfort. And more than anything, she missed the little boy who was growing up without her.

"Antonio," she cried. "I'm sooo sorry, baby. Mama's so sorry," she whispered, sniffling alone in her seat on the bench.

She dried her eyes with the tips of her fingers, smudging the already streaking mascara. She was glad no one else was waiting for the bus. She cast a quick glance around the area looking for squad cars, knowing that talking to herself might draw the attention of a police officer. She had met enough of them during her time on the streets. She didn't want to be harassed today by the fuzz. In fact, she didn't want to be harassed by anyone else, ever again. Slowly, she began rocking back and forth. "Oh, Bri… Maybe you had the right idea. Maybe that is the only way out of this hell."

E!

Johnny and Roy stood outside of treatment room 3, waiting for Malcolm to finish the x-rays. Neither man knew what to say to the other, each one's mind trying to sort out the details of what had happened since they had arrived for this strange shift.

"So, who do you think he thought she was?" Johnny asked, breaking the nervous silence.

"I don't know… But whoever it is… He sure was upset by it," Roy mused, just as three beeps alerted them to another potential call.

Johnny held up the handy-talkie to respond to dispatch while Roy quickly stepped over to the nurses' station to inform Dr. Early and Dixie of their predicament.

"Hey, Doc… We've got another call to go on. Will you let Marco know we'll pick him up when we come back in, and Dix, will you call the station and let Cap know that he's going to need to call in a replacement for Marco?"

"Sure, Roy," Dixie spoke up.

"I'll let him know," Dr. Early announced, seeing Malcolm exiting the treatment room. "I'm going to check on him now."

The kindly physician followed the exiting paramedics down the corridor, stepping into treatment room three as the other two men continued out to the squad. When he entered the exam room, he was met by the red-rimmed dark eyes of Marco. He reached for the ice pack that had been removed to take x-rays, placing it back on the injured ankle of his patient.

"Can I go now, Doc?"

"How long have you been under such extreme stress?" Dr. Early questioned, reviewing the lineman's chart. "Your weight is down, your blood pressure is up, and," he closed the manila folder. "Overall, you look like hell, Marco." Joe Early didn't mention the bits of heated conversation he had overheard in the stairwell.

"That's it," Marco began, pushing himself up from the table, reaching for his sock and boot which had been removed for the examination. "I don't need a doctor to chastise me about my appearance." He removed the ice pack, tossing it onto the counter nearest the exam table.

"This has nothing to do with your appearance. It has to do with your health. Now, why don't you just lie back down and let me check your vitals again. Besides, we need to wait on the films to make sure you don't have a fracture. If you do then you'll be going to the cast room. If you don't, then we'll still need to wrap it." The gray-haired physician gently pushed the frustrated man back into a supine position.

"You can't keep me here against my will."

Dr. Early calmly placed the earpieces of his stethoscope into his ears, and pumped up the blood pressure cuff. "No, you're right about that. I can only do that if your mental status is compromised." He twisted the valve, releasing the pressure on the lineman's arm. He listened carefully until he could no longer hear a heartbeat and noted the readings. "And since your mental status isn't compromised, then you're free to go."

"But?" Marco knew there was more the older man was going to say.

"But…," Joe hesitated, reaching for his patient's wrist to get an updated pulse reading. "I do have the power to recommend that Hank pull you off shift if I feel that your health is in jeopardy or that you can't complete your shift."

Marco rolled his eyes. "And let me guess. If I leave AMA, then you'll say that my health is in jeopardy?"

"Well," the doctor smiled warmly, realizing that he had the attention of his patient. "If you leave against medical advice, then you bet I will. Marco, I'm your friend as well as your physician. This is more than just the normal stress of the life of a hose jockey, isn't it?"

Marco scrubbed his face with his hand. "Doc, please…. Just, let me leave, alright? It's just a sprain."

"Let's negotiate your discharge, shall we?" The older man offered.

"Negotiate?"

"Yes… I'll release you from this fine establishment," he grinned, sweeping his arm around the room, "and give you a work excuse for the next shift."

"And what do I have to do to secure this lucrative offer?" Marco asked, his voice laced in sarcasm.

"You get some rest, and…," the physician knew his next statement would not be well-received. "And you see the department counselor for whatever it is that's bothering you."

"No, thank you, Doc." Marco again sat up on the exam table. "That's an offer I can definitely refuse. I don't need to see some shrink to lower my blood pressure. I'm in pain from my ankle injury. That raises blood pressure… I'm not an idiot….," he mumbled, leaning over to pull his sock over his swollen ankle. "And I damn sure am not crazy."

"No one said you were an idiot or that you were crazy, Marco. All I'm saying is that there are times in our lives when we need someone to talk to, to help us sort things out. Now, I can't force you to do anything. But, I know you're a smart man. You're strong both physically and mentally. And I'm counting on that strength to help you make the best informed decision for your future." Joe Early looked at his patient, intently. "I cannot allow you, or anyone else, to work with an ankle like that… Or, this blood pressure reading," he said, tapping his index finger on the manila file. "I'm going to write you a medical excuse for the remainder of this shift and the next… And, I'll write that it's due to your ankle injury, IF the x-rays show no sign of fracture." He placed his hand on Marco's shoulder and continued in his calmest, most supportive voice. "We both know that speaking to the departmental counselor is a free, and extremely private, service. I trust that when you come back for me to recheck that ankle and release you for work, that you'll be feeling much better, both physically and mentally."

"And if it's only a sprain, and I come back in just a few days, what happens if I'm not feeling better?"

"Then I trust that you will have made the proper arrangements to get yourself back on track. It won't happen overnight. So, all I'll be looking for is movement in the right direction," the physician offered.

"In other words, an appointment?" Marco mumbled, trying to return his boot to his foot, only to be hampered by the swelling. "Argh."

"No, I'll be checking to make sure the swelling is down, you're bearing weight on the ankle, and your vitals are normal." The kindly older man then turned to retrieve the ice pack and replace it on the swollen ankle. "The rest is up to you. Now, just sit tight while I check those films… And leave that boot off and the ice on." He turned to walk away, then spun back around quickly on his heels. "Oh, and by the way, Dix has called the station to let Hank know you'll be needing a replacement, and John and Roy got called out. They said they'd pick you up when they come back by."

"Ugh," Marco groaned as he laid back down on the exam table, reluctantly accepting his fate. He blew out his cheeks, resting the back of his hand across his forehead covering his eyes, his mind drifting back to the young woman he had glimpsed in the emergency department corridor earlier. Was it Lexi? Or, was he so desperate to find her that his exhausted mind was playing tricks on him? One thing he knew for sure, he had to get up to the fifth floor to talk to Brianna, and with any luck, get a good look at her roommate, the young woman whom he still thought might be his sister.

E!

Lexi continued to sit alone at the bus stop, waving on the two buses that had stopped to pick her up. She thought again about her roommate, her friend who had preferred taking her own life to living the life they were both trapped in. The sound of a siren jerked her attention to the emergency entrance of the hospital. Squad 51 turned left at the stop sign, driving swiftly away from her towards another rescue. She watched it disappear, and assumed that Marco was inside along with the two paramedics.

"Good-bye, Marco," she whispered to herself, just as a slamming car door jolted her back from her reverie.

"What the hell are ya doin' out here, Lex?"

Her spine stiffened, and her stomach lurched. This was the voice she feared more than anything else, and from his tone, she could tell that he was angry. "I - I just came to check on Bri."

"She don't need you. Now get in the car!"

"But, she's my f-friend," Lexi cried, feeling like a scolded toddler.

"Friend? Ha! You don't have no friends. I'm the only one that gives a damn about you. You're just a pathetic whore. The only thing you're good for is lying on your back!"

She sniffled, once more feeling like the tiny pieces of garbage amid the rushing tires of traffic. "Please don't, Ricardo. Please?"

"Damn, girl. Why do make me treat you like this? All I asked you to do was stay home and get some rest. I need ya to be fresh tonight. Your customers don't wantcha actin' all tired and shit."

"I know, but I just wanted to check on her for a few minutes," Lexi said, trying to reason with the man.

"You think she'd check on you? Hell no! Now, shut up your sniveling and get in the car. You make me crazy, you know that?"

"I'm s-sorry," the trembling young woman cried.

"Yea, yea… You always say you're sorry, but then you go and disobey me again. I hate punishin' you, but you know the rules. If ya could just follow the rules, then this wouldn't happen. It's your fault, ya know?"

"I know… I'm trying to be… g-good, but…"

"But you just can't, can you?" The tall dark-haired man smirked. He stared at her, allowing his words to hit their mark before switching his tactic. "C'mere," he leaned against the car, reaching out his arms to her. "I know you ain't got nobody. I know ya get lonely and shit, but ya know I'm gonna look out for ya, right?"

Lexi nodded, slowly standing and walking towards the man she both loved and hated. "We've gotta stick to the plan. You're makin' money and I'm puttin' some of it away for ya. I'm just helpin' ya out like your old man woulda done if hadn't got killed. You know, puttin' money back so you'll have somethin' when you're old enough to be independent. Just a couple more years and you'll be able to make it on your own. But right now, ya just ain't ready. I mean, who's gonna get ya outta jail when ya get busted, huh?"

"I know," she muttered, staring down at the ground in front of him. She had learned a long time ago that cops arrested prostitutes, not their pimps. She was the criminal, not Ricardo. Instead, he was the one who bailed her out, protected her. An activity that always deepened her debt to him, and forced her back out on the streets in a never ending cycle.

"Who's gonna go bustin' up those bastards that mistreat ya and don't pay ya, huh? Jus' me. I'm all ya got, girl. And, I can't do it for free. It's hard work."

He reached out with his long thin fingers, lifting her chin until she was looking directly into his eyes. "That's my girl. You love me, don'tcha?"

She nodded, unable to speak.

"You know I'm only doin' what's best for ya, right?"

Again, she merely nodded, not even realizing that his words were constant contradictions.

"Alright, get in the car and we'll go back to my place so you can make it up to me," he ordered, opening the car door and carefully pushing her inside. He didn't want to draw any attention by being rough with her. He'd have his chance when he got her back to his house.

E!

Half an hour later, Marco lay on the exam table, his swollen and bruising ankle being wrapped with a bandage.

"Alright," Dr. Early began. "That ought to do it." He clipped the beige Ace bandage in place. "Now, Dixie will be bringing you a pair of crutches and then you'll be free to go. I want you to stay off of that ankle for the next forty-eight hours, bathroom privileges only. Keep it elevated above your heart to help with the swelling. Ice will help with that, too." He looked up to see his charge staring into nothingness. "Marco?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you listening to my discharge instructions?" The physician asked.

"Yes, I am. Elevate, ice, no weight… I got it, Doc."

"Very well… Think about what I said, alright?" Dr. Early encouraged, his kindly face and voice soothing his patient.

Marco looked away briefly, nodding his affirmation. "I will. Thanks… I really appreciate… Um, everything." Marco ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "I'll… I hope to have better vitals when I come back for my medical release check."

Dr. Early smiled, lighting up his round face. "I hope so."

The exam room door opened up and Dixie walked in carrying a pair of wooden crutches with her. "Ever used a pair of these before?"

"Unfortunately, yes," the fireman responded.

"Well then, I guess you don't need any lessons," she stated warmly, leaning the crutches against the exam table. "Why don't you give them a try and head on to the staff lounge. Joe did tell you that Johnny and Roy got called out on another run, right?"

Marco nodded, cutting his eyes at the grinning physician.

"You don't trust me to relay messages, Dix?"

Dixie gave Dr. Early a flirty grin in response to his question. She then returned her pretty blue gaze back to the injured fireman. "Anyway, they're assisting with a motor vehicle accident with entrapment. They haven't gotten the victim out yet, so it'll be a little while before they get back here."

Marco accepted the crutches, gingerly sliding off the exam table, and propping them in his armpits. "Actually, I think I'll go check on Brianna. We, uh, we didn't quite make it before."

Dixie gave him a knowing smile. She heard Dr. Early clear his throat behind her, interrupting the question that was on the tip of her tongue. "I'm sure she'll appreciate that. I'll tell them where you are when they get here," the sassy nurse offered.

Dr. Early held the door open for the lineman who awkwardly made his way through it, making a left turn towards the elevators. He held it open for his favorite emergency room nurse, but she stood staring at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Wanna tell me what you know?"

"About what?" Dr. Early replied, feigning innocence.

"Oh, don't give me that doctor-patient confidence crap. You know what happened to him, don't you?" She raised an eyebrow, reminding the older doctor of a certain paramedic.

Joe knew how stern Dixie could be, but he also knew she had a heart of gold, especially for firemen. She was worried about Marco, not being nosy. "Actually, I know exactly what happened to him, Dix. He sprained his ankle."

"You're impossible, Joe. I don't know whose worse, you or Kel," she remarked, charging through the open doorway, a slight smile on her face. She loved the men she worked with, both those in white lab coats and those in sooty turnout coats. She had known the gray-haired man wouldn't divulge what he knew, if anything, about the lineman's uncharacteristic behavior. He was a true professional. But, she also knew that while he didn't reveal any confidential information about his private conversation with Marco, his face was calm and relaxed, and his demeanor was a bit jovial. That told her that he had made progress with the fireman, and that was all the information she was hoping for.

E!

Brianna was in a lightly sedated sleep, when a knock on her door awakened her. "Um, c-come in," she croaked out, her voice gravelly and her throat dry.

"Brianna?" Marco called out, his head sticking slightly inside the room.

"Hmmm?"

"Hi, my name's Marco. I, uh, I work with the paramedics who brought you in earlier," he said, hobbling into the room, disappointed when he realized the room was empty except for the young patient. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"T-tired," she mumbled, drifting back to sleep.

Marco hung his head. He had not found the person he had hoped might be in the room. He looked back up at the dark-haired woman, noting her olive complexion contrasting with the heavy white bandages on her arm. He wondered if Lexi was feeling as hopeless as this young woman, praying that his mother's sense of urgency wasn't a premonition of a similar act, one that would permanently separate Lexi from the rest of her family. He watched Brianna sleep for a few moments, then turned and headed back out of the room, his heart sinking as he made his way back to the elevator. He needed a cup of coffee, and since he had nowhere to go until Roy and John returned, he decided to wait for them in the staff lounge just as Dixie had suggested.

E!

John and Roy were released from the scene after their entrapped victim was determined to be deceased. They dejectedly climbed into the cab of the squad and began their victimless journey back to Rampart. It was just before noon and already, both men were feeling the weight of losing two patients so far this shift. A third victim was fighting for her life in an operating room while the fourth didn't want the life they had saved for her.

"Man, this shift sucks!" Johnny mumbled, squinting his eyes against the sun as they headed down Carson Street.

"Yes, it does. And now we've got to figure out what's going on with Lopez," Roy responded.

"Why don't we run by the station and get his car. Then I can drive it to his house, and you can pick me up there." Johnny recommended, his elbow propped on the open window ledge, the wind whipping through his dark tresses.

"Good point. Dr. Early said he wasn't going to be released back to work for this shift." Roy took the next right turn, heading back to the station. "I just hope he didn't break that ankle."

The duo arrived at the station finding the engine parked on the apron with Chet and Mike mopping the apparatus bay. Roy parked the squad beside the engine and the paramedics got out. Mike walked over to the two paramedics while Chet dumped out the dirty water from the mop bucket.

"So, what happened to Lopez?" The tall engineer asked.

"I wish we knew," Roy responded, leaning over the hood of the squad.

"We were just headin' up to check on Brianna Olivier, the suicide attempt from this morning," Johnny clarified, realizing that Mike wouldn't know who Brianna was. "Anyway, Brianna's roommate saw us gettin' in the elevator and called out to us. When Marco saw her, he just flipped out."

"Flipped out?"

"Yea, I had already pressed the button to close the door, and I couldn't get it open again. He started pounding on the elevator doors, tryin' to pull'em apart with his hands. Once we got to the fifth floor, he shot outta the elevator like a bullet, and ran for the stairs." Johnny shook his head as he remembered the look on his friend's face. "Stoker, he was like a mad man. He ran down the stairs with us chasin' him," he tilted his head in Roy's direction, "and at the second floor landing, he jumped over the last few steps, and injured his ankle."

"It was the only way we were able to stop him," Roy added.

"Anyway, he thought he knew Miss LeRoux, Brianna's roommate, and… Hell, I can't imagine who he thought she was, but it made him freak out."

"We don't know if his ankle is broken or sprained, but he won't be back for this shift. Johnny and I came by to get his car, and then take him home," Roy explained, tapping the hood of the squad as he stepped back away from it. "I'm going to let Cap know what we're gonna do."

"We're still waiting for his replacement to get here. You fellas are still available. Why don't you let Chet and I pick him up, and take him and his car home?"

"That makes sense," Roy stated. "I'll let Cap know." The older paramedic turned, walking towards the captain's office.

As soon as Roy was out of hearing range, Mike couldn't resist asking the question that was hounding him. "So, what did this Miss LeRoux look like?"

Johnny looked at his engineer curiously. "She's Chicano, straight dark hair, and…," Johnny's voice trailed off as he stared, unseeing, at the cement apron.

"And?" Mike asked, encouraging the paramedic whose mouth was hanging agape.

"LeRoux… It isn't a Chicano name. And… And neither is Olivier," Johnny mumbled.

"No… They sound French to me. Why?" Mike asked, unsure where Johnny's mind was going.

"Both of them are Chicano, but they have French names. That's weird, huh?" Johnny mused.

The comment piqued Mike's interest even more. "It's unusual."

Johnny looked up at the blue-eyed man standing near him. "Not as unusual as what Brianna did."

"Attempting suicide? Unfortunately, that's not so unusual either."

"No, Mike. It's how she did it. She, ah, see she has this tattoo on her forearm of Pinocchio, and she cut herself… Well, she cut him."

Mike felt as if his knees were about to buckle. He thought he knew what the tattoo meant, and if he was right, he had an idea of who Marco had actually seen that had him so upset. "Pinocchio?"

"Yea, see she made a cut," Johnny drew a finger across his own throat. "And she didn't just try to decapitate him either. She made another cut across his…"

"Left arm?"

"No, a part of his anatomy that's a little lower than his left arm," Johnny smirked in response to Mike's question.

"The tattoo, was it on her left arm?" Mike asked sternly, not finding the humor in Johnny's remark.

Johnny drew his eyebrows together in a 'V' on his forehead. "Yea, why?" He narrowed his eyes at his engineer, looking around to make sure no one else could hear his next question. "What do you know, Stoker?"

"Just call it a hunch, alright. I've got to get Chet and head on out before Marco's replacement gets here." The engineer turned and loped over to the cleaning closet where Chet was busy putting up the mopping supplies, leaving a confused paramedic staring at him from the apron of the station.

"Come on, Chet. We need to take Marco's car to Rampart and then take him home."

Chet looked up, rolling his eyes at his engineer. "Fine, but we'll take my van. That way you can drive his car AND him. I might say something I'll regret." The young man was still upset by the confusing behavior and curt remarks of his partner.

"No problem," Mike tossed over his shoulder as he headed for Marco's locker to retrieve the injured lineman's duffel bag and car keys. He needed to speak to Marco alone. If Mike was right, Marco might have actually seen his long-lost sister.

E!

A/N: I appreciate all the reviews and comments, PM's, etc. Thank you so much.


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